End of Innocence
by CorkyTheGuar
Summary: After losing Keith, Ellis finds an unlikely shoulder to lean on. Nick has concerns about his own immunity, and Ellis must cope as Nick's fear and paranoia slowly turn him into a different kind of monster. Nick/Ellis
1. Chapter 1

Part I

Possession

"Well damn, Ellis! Look at _you_!" An astonished, young man shouted as he strolled around his meticulously waxed pickup truck and up the weathered, concrete walkway of his best friend's house.

His friend stood at the doorway, wearing a bright smile and an incredible pair of dark jeans that showed off the perfectly toned lower half of his body. A black, slim fitted, collared shirt- left unbuttoned at the top- hugged his waist, and his warm brown, wavy locks were swept up with a small amount of hair gel. A tungsten necklace and a chic wristwatch completed the look.

"Always tryin' a' look my best for you, Keith." Ellis laughed, not fully joking, and indeed he looked amazing. It made Keith more than a bit worried.

"I don't even wanna know how much you spent on that getup." Keith chuckled, catching a whiff of the spicy top notes of Ellis's cologne as the two of them made their way to the truck. "You must wanna win somethin' fierce."

"Well, hell yeah! I'm goin' all out tonight!" Ellis exclaimed exuberantly, eyeing his friend quickly up and down. A blue and white cap sat atop Keith's head. His worn, light gray shirt was peppered with small but noticeable motor oil stains, and his jeans didn't fit nearly as nicely as Ellis's.

"From the looks a' things, you ain't got a chance, Keith. If the stakes weren't so high, I would feel sorry for ya'." The younger man patted Keith's shoulder before puffing out his chest and performing an exaggerated, wide-shouldered strut around to the passenger side and entering the truck.

"Pfft. Don't need no fancy clothes ta' beat you. Gonna be all the more epic when I wipe the floor with your newly-trendy ass!" Keith retorted, laughing as he sat behind the wheel.

"Oh, yeah? Well how 'bout we raise the stakes then?" Ellis suggested confidently as he rubbed his hands together.

"Fine, but no backin' down!" Keith exclaimed with equal confidence, "If I win, not only will you have to cover my shift tomorrow while I get my picture taken with Jimmy Gibbs Jr., but you're also gonna have ta' drive my little sis an' 'er friends ta' cheerleadin' practice fer a whole week!" A sinister grin spread across Keith's face as he witnessed the horrified look on Ellis's.

"Well God damn, Keith! That's jus' plain _evil_, man!" The twenty three year old shuddered at the thought of the four, thirteen year old girls mercilessly pinching his cheeks- both pairs- and fawning over him while squealing incessantly at illegal decibels.

"It was your idea to raise the stakes. Besides, you can't back down now," Keith scoffed, folding his arms in anticipatory triumph. He was right. Neither of them ever backed down from anything.

"Ok!" Ellis's grin was even more sinister than Keith's, but he couldn't mask the gleaming smile lighting up his blue-gray eyes, "When _I _win, not only will _you _cover for _me _while I get my picture taken with Jimmy Gibbs, but I will also be wearin' your hat while I do so, Mr. Baldy-pants!"

"_Shit_!" Keith's hands flew up to grasp his cap, clutching it tightly as he pulled it down over his eyes. The twenty four year old was indeed balding prematurely, and as such, was never seen in public without his hat.

"Fine!" Keith growled as he started up the truck, but he couldn't quite suppress a growing smile. Ellis's bubbling belly laugh was too damn contagious.

"Don't worry, buddy. I'm sure the boss'll letchu' go to work with a sock on your head!" Ellis plugged his cell phone into Keith's charger and lowered the window as they made their way through the city towards club Malaise, a trendy, new Savannah hot spot. Although it was mid October, the evening air was still warm and muggy.

Unused to fussing so much over his appearance, Ellis absent-mindedly allowed the incoming breeze to slightly ruffle his perfectly styled hair.

"Hey, turn up the radio. Maybe we can catch the Midnight Riders' new single 'afore we get to the club. Sure they won't be playin' anything good once we get inside," Ellis said as he pouted slightly.

Keith rolled his eyes as he increased the volume of the radio.

"…following the Green Flu epidemic that has been spreading swiftly across the Northeast. Reports of fatalities from that region have begun trickling in, as well as reports that hospitals here in the Southeast have begun treating patients exhibiting the bizarre symptoms associated with the Flu…"

"Oh shit!" Ellis shouted.

"…CEDA has been setting up quarantine zones throughout the Eastern seaboard and have even arranged for evacuation if the need arises, but for now they are urging the public to remain calm as the situation here in the Southeast seems stable. All public air traffic has been suspended-"

"More of that Green Flu again?" Keith shook his head as he changed the station, "Always talk of a flu. Regular flu, swine flu, bird flu, _fish_ flu…"

"But they said people are dyin', Keith."

"People die from regular flu all the time, Ellis. Mostly old people. A couple a' young guys like us got nothin' ta' worry 'bout. Oh, look, here's your song."

A uncanny feeling of uneasiness began creeping its way into Ellis's gut, but Smitty's gritty vocals captured his attention.

"Try to enjoy yourself while we're there instead a' just focusin' on our little wager. Maybe you'll end up with a lady on your arm by the end of the night." Keith produced a cheesy wink, "I plan on endin' up with at least two."

Ellis turned to face the window. Now it was his turn to roll his eyes.

* * *

"Damn, there are a lot a' people here, Keith."

The two men stood outside of club Malaise, observing the rather impressive crowd of young men and women eagerly hoping to make it inside.

"Yeah, isn't it great?" Keith yelled above the din, "You remember the rules, right?"

"Yup, whoever can attract the largest group a' ladies in one hour gets ta' see Jimmy Gibbs Jr. tomorrow!" Ellis shouted with rapidly swelling excitement- his eyes fixed firmly on the prize.

Keith's eyes, however, became transfixed on a group of young women near the back of the line, and he sauntered confidently over to them. Before Ellis could follow, a man in a white suit slammed into him from behind, nearly knocking the boy to the ground as the individual ran past.

"Ow!" Ellis rubbed the back of his arm and noticed a curious, dropped object at his feet. Whatever it was, it was encased in a thick layer of bubble wrap and sealed with industrial tape. The boy picked it up.

"Hey, sir! You dropped this!"

The man stopped in his tracks and ran back to the boy, swiping the object from his hands.

"Thanks kid," he said quickly before disappearing into the crowd.

A few moments later, Ellis watched as a group of policemen sprinted past the club.

"Hey El, come over here an' introduce yourself to these lovely girls!"

"Comin', Keith."

Meanwhile, a large, muscular bouncer was scanning the eager throng, specifically ordered to allow only the cream of the crop into the already jam-packed establishment.

"Only three spots left!" He shouted to the crowd, which responded by erupting into a cacophony of 'boo's.

The man pointed at a tall, slender, stunningly beautiful young woman in a little black dress, allowing her to walk past the velvet rope. His second choice was a shorter, curvier woman in a red dress, with an equally beautiful face.

"God damn it," Keith muttered as the rest of the crowd collectively held its breath. The bouncer scanned the crowd one last time, taking a moment to observe the sea of faces in front of him.

Finally, he pointed at Ellis.

The boy earnestly grabbed Keith by the arm and made his way hastily over to the entrance, but was quickly stopped by the bouncer.

"I pointed to _you_, not him."

"But we're together!" Ellis exclaimed innocently as he wrapped his arm tightly around Keith's waist. The bouncer cocked an eyebrow and Keith smacked his own forehead with the palm of his hand before pushing Ellis away from him.

"Ellis, you are so embarrassin'ly clueless sometimes!"

"Ok, then I guess that means I automatically win since you can't even get in!" Ellis grinned triumphantly, "Why don't we just go back ta' my place and have a beer now, instead?"

Keith pulled Ellis closer to him and began whispering in his ear.

"Wager aside, I actually plan on havin' a good time in there, unlike you. So just get in there and wait for me. I'll be in 'afore you know it."

The flashing lights and booming house music were more than a little overwhelming to poor Ellis, but the thought of getting to meet Jimmy Gibbs goaded him towards the dance floor. He stood awkwardly for a few moments before spotting the girl in the black dress that was allowed inside before him. Ellis flashed the brightest, most charming smile he could muster while nodding once in her direction. Instantly, the girl grabbed her friend and began to approach him. Ellis quickly glanced at his watch- 10:34. The clock had already started, and with Keith nowhere to be found, things were looking good.

Attracting a girl's attention was definitely not a problem for Ellis, and in that regard he had a distinct advantage over his friend. Keeping the girl's attention and not making a fool of himself were a little harder to do, but he was determined to defeat Keith and meet Jimmy- and that made him dangerous.

The girl stood elegantly before him as Ellis quickly picked his method of attack. The mechanic wasn't the smartest guy around, nor was he the biggest or buffest. There was however one thing that set Ellis apart from most other men, his not so secret weapon- a face blessed with almost inhuman symmetry, seemingly forged by strict adherence to a superior, golden ratio.

"Howdy, my name's Ellis, what's yours?" The boy ran a hand slowly through his hair and squinted his eyes slightly.

"I'm Erica."

"Pleasure to meet you, Erica. You're very beautiful." Ellis kept his voice at a low, throaty pitch. He stuck the tip of his tongue out ever so slightly and let it graze the surface of his impossibly perfect lips before releasing a soft breeze of cinnamon from his mouth as he exhaled.

Needless to say, Erica was completely smitten.

"Thanks, so are you." She reached out her hand and touched his cheek, but was interrupted as her friend unceremoniously elbowed her.

"This is my friend, Natalie." Erica played with her hair, slightly embarrassed.

"Pleasure to meet you, Natalie."

Keith, having successfully infiltrated the club, began to calmly make his way towards Ellis. A pang of jealousy overtook him as he watched his handsome friend effortlessly attract the two women. Keith wasn't an ugly guy, but Ellis had a way of making him look rather plain by comparison. However, Keith had tricks of his own, and they were much more complex than his friend's. There was no doubt in Keith's mind that he was going to win.

Ellis knew that he should be engaging the two women in conversation, but as he stared at Erica's beautiful face, there was only one thing on the boy's mind.

All that he could think about at that moment was how badly he wished he could bare Jimmy Gibbs Jr.'s children.

The thought had hammered itself into the forefront of his brain, and it was so overwhelmingly distracting that it threw his game off completely and he couldn't stop himself from blurting out the bizarre desire to both of the women.

Erica stared at him with a look of horror before doubling over and giggling so hysterically that she lost her balance and fell flat on her ass, bringing several other people down with her. Meanwhile, the unfortunate Natalie had chosen to take a sip of her drink at the very moment of Ellis' revelation and was now coughing and sputtering as she spewed the fruity cocktail in a vaporous plume from her mouth, drenching the boy's shirt in the process.

"Oh, Lord…" Ellis sighed and watched things devolve further into chaos as Keith suddenly emerged from the crowd and grabbed Natalie, needlessly performing a Heimlich maneuver on the frightened girl-but not before he stumbled over Erica as she flailed about on the floor.

"I apologize for my friend, here." Ellis heard Keith say as he helped Erica up and kissed both women on the backs of their hands. "Please allow me ta' buy you a replacement drink miss," he said to Natalie, then to Erica, "I'll buy you a drink too, my lady." After gathering their composures, both women took Keith's offer and the trio made their way over to the bar.

Ellis was flabbergasted. Just like that, Keith had managed to steal both women away from him- and just to rub it in his face, Keith turned around and pointed at the boy, mouthing out a mocking laugh.

Frustrated, Ellis flipped Keith off just as both women turned around to look at him. Of course, they both believed the gesture was aimed at them, and Ellis cringed at the outraged death stares they hurled at him before they stormed off with Keith in tow.

"God damn it!" Ellis muttered as he turned around and headed towards the bathroom.

* * *

"…if you get your spit thick enough, y'see, y'all can hang a loogie off the overhang.."

The girl in the red dress rolled her eyes in disgusted annoyance- her ample, artificially enhanced cleavage rising and falling as she let out an exaggerated sigh. Once again, Ellis had managed to successfully attract a group of women- five to be exact, but he had quickly run out of clever things to say and was now leaning on his emergency crutch: Keith stories.

"You're cute and all," the girl interrupted him, her tone of voice ruthlessly nasty and condescending, "but you have got to be the _dumbest_, most immature little brat I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. Why in the hell would anyone want to listen to such a disgusting story?"

All of the women began to laugh cruelly and two of them walked away, flipping their hair as they left.

Ellis could feel the skin on his face and neck begin to sting and burn as he stared at the girl with hurt eyes. He had been nothing but kind, charming, and respectful, and this is how he was being treated in return.

Ellis thought about all of the effort and preparation he had gone through to win this bet and to try and have a good time, yet here he was melting into a quivering puddle of humiliation.

He glanced at Keith reclining in the lounge adjacent to the dance floor. The silver-tongued young man was surrounded by a harem of women, all of them contentedly laughing at his witty jokes with drinks in their hands.

Ellis fought back tears as he thought about how his mom had lovingly helped him pick out a nice shirt for the occasion, despite the fact that she had been feeling rather weak and ill.

A baseball sized lump formed in his throat. He was upset, embarrassed, frustrated, and now there was no chance in hell that he would meet Jimmy tomorrow.

"Oh, _yeah_?" he found himself shouting at the cruel, young woman. He knew in his heart what he was about to do was wrong, but he simply didn't care anymore, "You think _that_ was disgustin' well chew on this! This one time, Keith and I filled up water balloons with our own _PISS!" _He nearly spat the word at the woman's face.

Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him.

"Yeah!" Ellis continued, his tears falling freely now, "And we filled 'em up so good that they was' almost as big as your ridic'lous fake tits!"

The boy crumpled to the ground; his breath completely sucked from his lungs. He had been expecting a retaliatory slap in the face by a small, feminine palm- not the savage skewering of his tender groin by the pointed tip of a stiletto. He could feel the burning stares of everyone around him as he made his way once more to the bathroom, this time on his hands and knees.

Ellis found himself sulking dejectedly in the toilet stall, shifting his jeans uncomfortably in an attempt to ease the pain in his private area.

He jumped at the knocking on the stall door.

"Occupied…Jus' a minute, please." The boy wiped his eyes and breathed deeply before opening the door.

"Ok, it's all yours now."

"Sorry for disturbin' ya'." A man his age stammered nervously at Ellis, "I saw what happened out there and was just checkin' on ya' to see if ya' was alright."

"Oh…you saw," Ellis ducked his head awkwardly, "Yeah, Imma be mighty sore for a bit, but I rekon I'm ok."

"My friend shouldn't have hurt you like that, no matter what you said to 'er. She can be pretty nasty sometimes."

Ellis made his way over to the sink and began scrubbing his hands and face as the other man continued speaking.

"So…what brings you here? Never seen you around before."

"Oh, I never been here 'afore. Not a big fan a' places like this. I came here cuz my buddy, Keith wanted to. But then I got all excited ta' come along cuz we made a little wager."

"My name's Matthew, Matt for short." The young man extended his hand and as soon as Ellis had finished drying his own, he shook it.

"Pleasure to meet you, Matt. My name's Ellis." The mechanic smiled brightly.

"Pleasure's all mine I'm sure." Matt's eyes lingered on Ellis for quite some time, traveling slowly from the mechanic's face to the tribal tattoo on his bicep, and back to his face again until both men felt self-conscious and awkward. Matt suddenly stammered and scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "Um…a wager?"

Ellis explained the terms of his and Keith's agreement.

"I managed ta' attract seven ladies so far, but Keith's got me pretty much beat cuz he's got like, twenty of 'em around 'im. Plus, he's got lots a' phone numbers and I didn't get any." He leaned closer to Matt and whispered, "Phone numbers are worth extra."

"Would you like mine?" Matt offered softly, cringing slightly at his own forwardness as soon as the words escaped from his mouth.

"Well, Keith specifically said _ladies'_ phone numbers," Ellis explained as he fished through the pockets of his jeans, "So technically your number wouldn't count."

"Oh…" Matt looked more than a little dejected.

"Aw shit. I left my damn phone in Keith's truck! I guess I can jus' tell you _my_ number, if you really want it, that is," Ellis offered with the same bright smile.

Matt instantly whipped out his phone and entered the mechanic's number.

"So I'll call you sometime."

"Um, Ok."

Ellis walked out of the bathroom and looked at his watch once more- 11:17. Only thirteen minutes left, and Keith's harem had only grown larger.

Ellis was desperate. He had to meet Jimmy Gibbs- _had to._ The boy was willing to do pretty much anything at this point, seeing as he would take a bullet for the man if needed.

Suddenly Ellis was struck with the craziest idea. He ran over to the bar, and climbed onto the counter.

He remembered a time when he was at a mall in Atlanta with his friend Dave. The two of them came across a group of guys inexplicably dancing provocatively in the parking lot outside of the mall's toy store- of all places. Ellis had stared at them for quite a while until one of the men demanded payment from him. The mechanic only had five dollars on him but he gave the money to the guy anyway.

Now, as he stood on top of the counter, listening to the beat of the music, Ellis tried to remember the kinds of moves the guys had used.

Keith was suddenly jarred from one of his funniest jokes by the sight of his best friend vigorously shaking his ass on top of the bar at the other end of the room. Nearly everyone in the entire establishment had stopped what they were doing and were now surrounding the bar, whistling, ogling, cheering, jeering, and tossing an eclectic mixture of cash, liquor bottles, and lingerie at the dancing mechanic.

"Looks like I won, Keith!" Ellis yelled as a bra landed perfectly on top of his head.

* * *

Ellis stood on his front porch breathing in the cooling air as the last vestiges of heat dissipated up into the sky.

"Tonight was… pretty interestin' huh, Keith?"

"I saw a side a' you I ain't never seen 'afore, so yeah it was pretty damn interestin'," Keith responded as Ellis chuckled softly.

"Yeah, don't really know what came over me-" a huge yawn escaped from Ellis's mouth, interrupting him mid sentence as he arched his back into a long, satisfying stretch, "Guess that's what happens when ya' try and come between a boy an' his idol."

"Yeah," Keith removed his blue and white cap and handed it to Ellis, "He's my idol too you know."

Ellis took the hat and stared at it for a few moments before looking up at its owner. He pursed his lips as he began to feel badly for his friend.

"You don't have ta' give me your hat, Keith."

"You earned it Ellis. It was part of the deal. I'm sorry for the way I acted tonight." Keith stared at the ground as he gently rubbed at the slightly receding hair above his forehead.

"You musta' got like fifty phone numbers tonight right, buddy?" Ellis was determined to cheer his friend up.

"Yeah! Well, more like seven or eight, but still that's not so damn bad!" Keith was beaming once more.

"Better 'en me, I assure you." Ellis folded his arms and leaned against the porch railing.

"How many did you get?"

"Oh, I didn't get none, not a single one," Ellis waved his phone in the air, "Left the damn thing in your car! But I did give someone my number, though."

"Yeah? What was her name?"

"Matthew," Ellis said, with a wide grin spreading across his cheeks.

Keith slapped his knee and laughed loudly.

"He was a real nice guy, I'll have you know!" Ellis exclaimed with a chuckle.

"Well, I best be goin' El. You got a big day ahead a' you tomorrow! Enjoy yourself, man." Keith turned to head towards his truck.

"Hey, Keith. You can stay the night if you want," Ellis offered softly, "My mom aint feelin' her best, but she won't mind. She loves you."

"Thanks for the offer, but I gotta get up early for work tomorrow, remember? Gotta work double since you won't be there. But I'll see you later."

Ellis stared at Keith for a few moments, suddenly gripped by the urge to tell his friend how he truly felt about him- as though he shouldn't continue to push away those feelings anymore. However, he didn't get the chance.

"Are you happy, Ellis?"

The boy was taken aback by the sudden, strange, loaded question.

"Well yeah…pretty sure I am, why?"

"Don't know. You always seem so happy on the outside, El, but sometimes it seems like you might not be so happy on the inside. It's almost like you're hidin' somethin', or waitin' for somethin' more…somethin' bigger ta' happen…if that makes sense."

Ellis stared into Keith's eyes.

"Aw, just forget I said anything, Ellis. I just want you ta' be happy, that's all. Don't ever stop smilin', Ok?"

Ellis closed his eyes and nodded.

Both men said goodbye to one another, neither of them knowing it would be for the last time.

"Hey Keith…you look real nice without your hat. I mean it," Ellis said before entering his house and closing the door slowly behind him.

Keith stood on the porch for a moment, breathing in the woody base notes of Ellis's fading cologne before heading back down the walk way towards his truck.


	2. Chapter 2

A nervous man removed his protective, yellow hazmat suit, folding it neatly before placing it into a front-loading autoclave to be sterilized. Neither his body, mind, nor soul were prepared for the events that would take place during the coming dawn, so he had decided to simply not be a part of it anymore.

Assured that his fellow co-workers were turning in early for the night, he made his way quietly over to a small, portable freezer and entered the proper combination into its digital padlock. He removed several items from the freezer, including a small package encased in bubble wrap, and made his way over to his tiny bed. He placed the package and what little belongings he had into a small travel bag and walked out of the green trailer, shivering despite the warm, balmy, evening air. Pausing only to let out a weary sigh, he melted swiftly into the encroaching darkness towards the nearest bar- determined to drown his overwhelming anxiety and depression with copious amounts of alcohol.

* * *

A savvy, dark haired conman in a gleaming, white suit sauntered confidently into a seedy tavern and approached its proprietor.

"I take it you're Charles?" the burly man behind the counter asked gruffly, eyeing the ridiculously expensive suit up and down.

"That's me." The man said, handing him a credit card.

As the proprietor led him towards a private backroom, Nick could barely suppress his desire to shout out to everyone in the establishment that 'Charles' was most definitely _not_ his name. Adrenaline was pumping through his system, filling him with euphoria and making him feel so very alive.

The conman smiled gleefully. Identity theft was definitely his second favorite pastime. He could do anything he wanted down here, buy anything he wanted, and his ex-wife's new husband would have to pick up the tab.

Before entering the back room to partake in his _favorite_ pastime, he spotted a depressed man seated by himself in a corner, guzzling down his drink- the perfect prey.

"Hold on a sec," he motioned for the proprietor to stop, "that guy's with me."

"You look like someone who's down on his luck," the conman said with a sly smile as he made his way over to the other man, "Care for a game of cards?"

"I got nothing to lose," the depressed man replied with a shrug and followed the conman into the private backroom filled with the shadiest characters in all of Savannah.

"How the fuck did you manage a royal flush?"

As he watched his angry fellow gamblers storm off in defeat, Nick gloated over his ill-gotten treasure like a dragon in his lair. Four hundred dollars cash, a box of Habanos, and another gold ring to add to his collection- not terrible earnings for a single night, and they would hold him until he hit the riverboat circuit in a few days.

He gathered his own personal deck of cards and began shuffling them almost lovingly between his fingers as he eyed the depressed man still seated next to him, guzzling down a beer. The conman actually felt sorry for the guy and had changed his mind about taking any earnings from him.

"You were fucked as soon as you agreed to play, you know."

"Yeah, I figured as much, but I did have a good time, and I thank you for that."

The sound of someone coughing rather forcefully in the main room of the tavern caused the tipsy man to twitch nervously.

"I'm sure you've heard of the Green Flu."

Nick nodded his head, "It's one of the reasons I came down here- to get the fuck away from it. That kind of shit skeeves me out."

"Well I hate to say it, but it's already made its way down here. There might even be infected people in this very city."

"Holy shit," the conman muttered, "But I've heard it's just like the regular flu. Just a little more deadly, right?" He started to feel very nervous, and the other man seemed to sense and feed off of Nick's growing panic.

"I work for CEDA, so believe me when I tell you that it's _nothing_ like the regular flu. Some people are immune, but most aren't. You don't even want to know what it does to people…how it changes them." The man began to tremble and his words became laced with anxiety. "We've failed miserably at controlling it…I'm sick of all the secrecy, the cover-ups…lying to the public. Pennsylvania is in ruins- _in fucking ruins!_ In a few days, the whole Northeast'll be a wasteland. And do you hear about it in the news? In any sort of presidential address? NO!"

"Good thing I never had any faith in the government," Nick snarled as he placed the new ring on one of his few remaining unadorned fingers. He then shoved the cash, a couple of the Habanos, and his trusty deck of cards into his suit pockets.

"Look, you're a crafty, wily bastard and I like you, so I'm telling you now- go to the Vannah hotel and stay for the night. There's going to be an evacuation there in the morning….shit's gonna get ugly real fast…I can just feel it in my bones…_God, _I need a fucking drink!"

"Nicolas!"

The booming voice that interrupted the CEDA worker sent a jolt down the conman's spine. Whoever it was, they knew his real name-_ not good._

"If you only knew how much trouble it's been to track you down!" A detective and four policemen stood at the doorway.

Nick began to back away towards the bar.

"You're under arrest for multiple counts of grand larceny, illegal gambling, extortion, and identity theft."

With all those charges, Nick knew he would be immediately hauled off and locked in a holding cell at the local jail to await trial- not exactly the best place to be if the CEDA guy was to be taken seriously- and Nick _was_ taking him seriously. In fact, he was more than freaked out by what the man had told him.

"You forgot one thing." The casual smile that slowly crept across the conman's face masked the tense, nervous energy building up in his muscles.

"Oh?" The detective mused, "Well then enlighten me."

"Murder."

The sound of the Nick's response was drowned out by the scream of the bullet that emerged from his hidden pistol as the conman whipped it out of his jacket and leapt behind the bar in a single burst of fluid movement. The bullet caught the detective's neck, sending the man down to the floor.

The frightened CEDA worker ducked under a table as a flurry of bullets erupted from the policemen's guns. One of the cops circled slowly around the bar, his gun outstretched tensely as his partners ceased fire.

Nick's hearing was acute, and once the frightened screams of fleeing pub-crawlers subsided, he could hear the policeman's footsteps crunching noisily on the shattered glass that littered the floor. From his crouched position, the conman was already pre-planning every movement of his body.

He smiled once more as he felt the hot blood surging through his being. Nick's fear of the Green Flu had already heightened his senses and doused him with a feeling of dread. Now though, as he saw the blurred flurry of movement from the policeman's gun as it emerged around the edge of the bar, all of his fear melted away. The Green Flu was unknown, but _this_- this was familiar.

The conman erupted into a kinesthetic frenzy, firing his pistol while simultaneously rolling to the side. The policeman missed his target. Nick did not. As his bullets hit the cop in the chest, the conman sprung backwards while firing another shot. He kept his momentum going as bullets streaked around him, circling around the edge of the bar and slinking fluidly across the floor. He ended up under the table next to the CEDA worker, who quickly produced a bubble wrapped package from his bag and handed it to Nick.

"What the fuck is this?" The conman flinched as a bullet missed him by inches.

"Just take it, I won't be needing it anymore! It just might save your life!"

"Will it magically get rid of these fucking cops, cuz that'd be nice!" Nick shouted as he fired his gun from between the legs of the chairs.

The CEDA worker frowned, "I can't guarantee you that it will work, but as soon as you get a free moment, you need to use what's in that package- all of it. I'm sure you'll figure it out once you see what's inside."

He then pulled out a large bottle of green fluid from his bag.

"Damn, am I glad I ran into you."

Nick cocked an eyebrow as he realized the man wasn't being sarcastic.

"Oh yeah? Now why's that?"

"Cuz now I don't have to deal with this God damn Green Flu. Hopefully, you'll be glad you met me too. After I throw this, run. Run like your fucking life depends on it because it does. Remember what I told you, and don't stop running until you reach the hotel."

The CEDA worker jumped up and hurled the container at the policemen as their bullets struck him in the chest.

One of the policemen cried out as the bottle shattered in his face, blinding him.

Nick took advantage of the chaos and jumped over the CEDA worker's lifeless body and out into the night.

He flew down the streets, nimbly avoiding cars and swerving through crowds of people as he headed towards the Vannah hotel. The conman was a drifter, and as such he had been down in Savannah several times before. He was familiar with several of the districts and had a pretty good idea as to where he was headed.

The police were still on his tail, and he knew he had to either lose them or dispose of them. He ducked into an alleyway, gripping his pistol tightly as he zigzagged through the dark, narrow gaps between buildings so swiftly that he nearly trampled over an elderly, homeless man coughing profusely on the ground.

Nick could both smell the vile substance that the CEDA guy had thrown and hear the rapid fall of footsteps dangerously close behind him. The fact that the footsteps belonged to only one policeman made him more nervous. They had obviously split up, and could be lying in wait ahead of him in the darkness.

He suddenly staggered as the homeless man jumped up, shoved him to the side, and sprinted with alarming speed straight at the approaching cop.

Horrified, Nick watched as the old man- completely unfazed by the bullets that pierced his stomach and shoulder- leapt onto the policeman and ripped the nose off the poor man's face with his teeth.

"Holy fucking shit!" Nick screamed as he ran back out into the street. His mind was racing more quickly than his body as he tried to process what he had just witnessed.

He dodged and weaved nimbly through the ever-thickening crowds of people, taking slight comfort from the cover that the living walls of flesh provided him.

Once again, he nearly trampled over someone in his frantic effort to reach the hotel.

"Hey, sir! You dropped this!"

At least this guy wasn't a psychotic monster.

Nick panicked as he stared at the object in the young man's hand. If it had been the money, or his deck of cards, he would have kept running, but of course it was the CEDA guy's gift which- the conman was now completely convinced- was something extremely important.

"Thanks kid." He glanced at the smiling face and swiped the package from the young man's hand before traversing through the crowd once more.

His lungs were on fire, but once he finally caught sight of the hotel emerging from the darkness ahead of him, Nick doubled his pace. The ringing of gunfire and more of the policemen's piercing screams caused him to triple his pace and he nearly burst through the glass doors of the hotel.

"I need a fucking room!" The conman shouted at the frightened receptionist, thrusting a pile of cash at her with such force that it disintegrated into a flurry of individual bills like leaves in a hurricane. Thankfully, the wide-eyed woman handed him a key with no resistance and Nick stumbled over to the elevator, collapsing inside of it as it carried him up to the thirteenth floor.

After locking the door to his room, Nick quickly peeled off all of his clothing and jumped into the shower, sighing deeply as the pulsating stream of water danced across his tense shoulders and back.

Not bothering to dress himself as he exited the shower, he quickly ripped open the package to discover two small, glass vials and a 3cc needle tipped syringe. Nick held one of the vials close to his face to read the tiny print on its label.

Sterile Diluent.

Within the vial was a clear liquid that he assumed was water. The second vial, filled halfway with a white powder, had a label that was much more complex, and the only thing Nick could decipher with any sort of meaning from the microscopic print were three phrases- each more worrisome than the last.

Single Dose

Modified Live

Untested

"Vaccine," He barely said the word out loud as he carried the vials and syringe over to the bed, placing them on the mattress as he sat down next to them. He glanced at the clock- just after midnight- and began weighing his options.

The conman was meticulous and fastidious by nature. In calculated defiance of his humble upbringing, Nick had done everything in his power- short of working an honest job- to make sure he could afford the very best in food, drink, clothing, and material possessions. He abhorred anything that was unclean and was something of a germaphobe. As such, the revelations that had unfolded during the night were driving him crazy.

Nick lit one of the Habanos and nervously smoked the entire thing.

He thought about the old man in the alley. Surely he had been sick…maybe even with the Green Flu. Beads of sweat formed on Nick's forehead, dripping onto his chest as he breathed heavily. His heart was pounding more quickly now than when he had been running.

Suddenly, a heavy shuffling could be heard coming from the hallway beyond his room. Nick lifted himself slowly off the bed, flinching at the creaking produced by the springs of the mattress. He had not turned on the lights to his room, so he tiptoed cautiously in the darkness towards the door, trying to subdue his heavy breathing as he held an eye to the peephole. He could see nothing but the eerie blackness that blanketed the hallway and let out a single shaky exhalation before making his way back towards the bed.

He had already been exposed to the Virus, he was sure of it.

"Fuck."

The old man had been coughing- had _touched _him- before viciously attacking the cop.

_You don't even want to know what it does to people…how it changes them._

"Oh, fuck…oh, fuck…"

Nick shuddered and scratched at his neck and shoulders, which only caused the burning pinpricks assaulting his flesh to intensify.

Then he coughed once.

In a panic, he picked up the syringe with trembling hands and pulled the cap off, exposing the sterile, 22 gauge needle to the air. As more sweat trickled down his face, he punctured the vial of the diluent with the needle and sucked out all the liquid within. He then snatched up the second vial- the one with the powder- and prepared to mix it with the diluent in the syringe.

Then Nick hesitated, taking in the irony of the situation. A wizened, cynical, daredevil with an iron-clad poker face who had chosen to make gambling his profession, was now trembling in a dark room during the wee hours of the morning as he prepared to take the biggest gamble of his life.

Was he truly willing to administer an unknown, untested substance into his own body?

Could he afford not to?

_Some people are immune, but most aren't._

Shaking himself from the CEDA worker's words, he glanced at the clock once more- 2AM.

Nick wiped his brow, his panting fraught with anxiety. He couldn't believe that two hours had flown by. He capped the syringe without reconstituting the powder in the second vial and placed everything into the small fridge next to the television.

Perhaps he wouldn't need the vaccine. He would be evacuated in a few hours anyway.

Feeling too exhausted and uncomfortably hot to put his clothing back on, Nick lowered his head onto the pillow, hoping to get a few hours of rest from what was left of the night. He was so tired that he drifted into a twilight sleep with his eyes still half open as he stared up at the ceiling- except he didn't see the ceiling. Instead, a figure began materializing in front of his vision.

The face was indistinct, but he caught a glimpse of brown, wavy hair…a flash of blue-gray eyes.

The figure slowly came closer, holding a bubble wrapped package in his outstretched hands.

Nick inhaled deeply.

In response, the figure cupped his hands around the package, and when he uncupped them, nothing but the syringe- filled with a gleaming green liquid- could be seen. Again the figure extended his hands, offering- daring the conman to take it.

Nick exhaled deeply.

The lids of his eyes became unbearably heavy so he closed them, which caused the figure to become more distinct as it now hovered an inch above him.

Nick could see the blue eyes close, mimicking his own.

He could see the full lips part slightly.

He could feel the warm breath flow over his face...

Nick nearly jolted from the bed as his eyes snapped open. The first glimmer of dawn caressed the curtains of the window, and he dropped back down onto his pillow. Placing a forearm over his weary eyes, the conman began to think about the vaccine in the fridge, uncertain about his decision once more.

"Thanks, kid...thanks a fucking lot." He murmured, before drifting off into true sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

"Got my seven fifty howlin' and my shotgun loaded, I'm full up and about to explode!"

Sporting his favorite, yellow graphic tee and trusty, gray overalls as he cruised down his neighborhood in a souped up truck, Ellis felt incredible. He couldn't remember the last time he had a Saturday morning off from work at the auto shop. In fifteen minutes, he would be standing face to face with his idol, and the icing on the cake: the blue and white cap that he admired almost as much as its owner rested comfortably atop his disheveled hair.

Other than a bizarre dream that had momentarily woken him up during the wee hours of the morning, Ellis had slept well last night despite being extremely exited.

When he was half way to the mall, Ellis was feeling so wonderful that he continued to belt out Midnight Rider's lyrics with such intensity that he almost missed his phone ringing, and he continued to sing as he held the phone to his ear.

"…Sounds good, let me under your hood and we can find out what I'm bringin'!"

"Um, Wow…Ellis?"

"Oh, sorry! Heh, who is this? I mean, hello?"

"It's Matt. From the club last night."

"Well hi, Matthew! How's it goin'?"

"Listen Ellis, I assume you're ok?"

"Well heeeell yeah! Never been better! Just on my way ta' the mall ta' meet-"

"The mall? Well keep headin' there! You haven't seen anything strange? Any monsters or anything?"

"Monsters?"

"Some crazy shit's goin' down, man! The police, people in green and yellow suits, they're tryin ta' fly folks outa' the city. If you can't make it to the mall, then try the Vannah hotel. Please be careful El-"

Their phones were suddenly cut out.

"Hello?…Matt?…Hello?… what's all this talk a' - MONSTERS!"

Ellis slammed his brakes as hard as he could, but wasn't able to stop in time.

He watched, horrified, as a young woman careened over his bumper in slow motion, rolled over his windshield, and onto the roof before landing in a heap of tangled limbs in the bed of the truck.

"OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!"

Nearly hyperventilating from panic as he exited the truck, Ellis clasped his hands to his mouth and stared with wide, haunted eyes at the mangled, bloody corpse. It was then that he noticed the source of the woman's careless, terrified dash into the street.

"Holy shit.." Ellis still had his hands over his mouth, so the resulting muffled moan that passed through his trembling fingers sounded remarkably similar to the ones made by the man that was now sprinting towards him. Blood of the brightest ruby hue flowed down the man's face from a gaping head wound like magma into his open, wolf-like jaws.

Ellis bolted back into the driver's seat, slamming the door on the creature's hand as it attempted to grab him. As he floored the accelerator, he could feel the clammy fingers brush against his arm. Puffs of black smoke trailed behind the pick up truck from the friction of the creature's body as it flopped about and scraped against the pavement as Ellis dragged it along at over sixty miles per hour. He could see more creatures shambling about as he swerved around the abandoned cars ahead of him. The fate of the unfortunate woman was long forgotten and she was launched from the truck bed- a testament to the boy's speed as he flew down the street.

Ellis only had one thing racing through his mind.

* * *

"Oh God, KEITH!"

Ellis leapt through the broken window of the auto shop despite the building, like all the others in the block, being partially consumed by flames. With the entire structure melting around him, the boy sprinted past infected bodies as they contorted in a sickening dance from the pain of the fire that seared their rancid flesh. He could see Keith, huddled and unmoving in the corner, and scooped the man up in his arms.

Pieces of the ceiling rained down around him, and Ellis struggled to keep from dropping Keith as the smoke attacked his lungs- still a tad sensitive from the asthma he had suffered with as a child.

Winded from his deep coughing, Ellis's pace slowed down inadvertently to a crawl, and he dropped Keith when something struck him in the back. An infected man with half his face burned off tackled him to ground. Ellis punched the weakened creature several times and pushed it off him. Enraged, the boy grabbed the zombie and hurled it into the perilously approaching fire before grabbing Keith by the arms and dragging him the rest of the way out of the building.

Dizzy from smoke inhalation, Ellis tried with all of his might to lift the still unresponsive Keith into his truck. He panicked as more creatures darted towards them and leapt onto the hood.

"Why are you doing this? What's wrong with you?"

The soulless beings responded to the boy's cries by screeching loudly and leaping towards him. Ellis found himself wrestling with three of the monsters with his bare hands as a fourth began beating Keith's unconscious body. One of the zombies nicked the bridge of Ellis's nose with a fingernail in an attempt to rip his face open, and another managed to punch him in the eye.

Ellis fell backwards onto the hard surface of the parking lot and rolled onto his stomach. He began crawling frantically towards Keith, ignoring the pain as the zombies continued to ruthlessly assault him. He had to stop the monster that was attacking his helpless friend.

Had to.

His tears began flowing with ever increasing intensity the closer Ellis crawled towards Keith. The probability of both of them dying was becoming horribly, frighteningly real.

But if they were going to die, Ellis was determined to do so lying next to Keith with his arms wrapped tightly around him- to tell him how much he loved him for the first time…and to say goodbye for the last time.

Ellis heard several rapid fire cracking sounds and the zombies began dropping around him. He looked up to see a young man in a motorcycle helmet, brandishing a bloody baseball bat: his other good friend.

"Dave!"

"Thank God I knew where to find you two!" Dave lifted Ellis onto his feet.

"Keith's in bad shape! Help me get 'im in the truck! We gotta get 'im ta' the hospital!"

Dave shook his head as they placed Keith in Ellis's truck.

"I passed the hospital on my way over here, ya' can't even get through the doors! Good thing I was on my bike cuz there's a mess 'a cars on the streets for blocks around the place."

"Well then where-" Ellis suddenly remembered what Matt had told him, and the hotel was closer to the auto shop than the mall. "We need to get to the Vannah!"

Ellis jumped behind the wheel and Dave sat in the passenger seat, supporting Keith in his arms.

"Maybe you should let me drive, Ellis."

"No, I'm fine."

Once again, Ellis tore down the streets, shifting gears expertly as he avoided the chaos of wrecked cars and people fleeing frantically across the streets.

"Jesus Christ!" Dave watched as a mob of infected attacked a group of people that were forced to stop at the crosswalk. Dave looked away when some of them continued running into the streets, right into speeding vehicles.

"Oh shit!" Ellis swerved to avoid a garbage truck that barreled into his lane.

Keith suddenly coughed, and clotted blood dribbled down the side of his mouth. Dave looked down at the young man, with worried realization spreading across his face.

Ellis gritted his teeth at the sound of the cough and floored the accelerator pad.

"Ellis…" Dave warned as he watched the speedometer surge past 60mph.

Tears began to cloud Ellis's vision and his breathing became rapid.

70 mph.

Once again, he swerved to narrowly avoid another car that had lost control.

80mph.

"Ellis!"

Beads of stinging sweat poured into Ellis's eyes, further obscuring his vision as his heart pounded furiously.

Suddenly, an obese woman appeared out of nowhere directly in their path.

"LOOK OUT!" Dave screamed as her body exploded from the impact, covering the windshield in a mixture of blood and gastric juices. The wiper fluid and blades that Ellis immediately flicked on could barely penetrate the viscous mixture as they continued to move forward at a dangerous speed.

"Stop the truck!" Dave commanded.

There was no response from the boy.

"ELLIS, STOP THE FUCKING TRUCK BEFORE YOU GET US ALL KILLED!"

Ellis obeyed, stopped the pick up, and placed it in park in the middle of the street. He then leaned his head against his window and began sobbing.

"If only I'd lost…"

"Let me drive." Dave's voice was once again soft and soothing, the way it had always been. Ellis nodded his head, still sobbing.

Dave removed his biker helmet and exited the vehicle, careful to support Keith's head as he laid him on the seat. He ran around the truck and opened Ellis's door. The boy allowed his much larger friend to pick him up gently from the driver's seat and place him next to Keith.

Ellis hugged Keith fiercely as Dave drove them the rest of the way to the hotel, completely unaware of the horde of infected following in the wake of the bile covered truck.

* * *

"But our friend is hurt!" Ellis pleaded with a police officer outside of the hotel.

"You're gonna have to wait like everyone else."

The scene outside of the hotel was one of barely contained chaos as an enormous line of people waited to be ushered to the roof of the hotel, where helicopters periodically hovered and left with small groups of fortunate escapees. Towards the front of the line, hazmat suited CEDA workers screened people before letting them pass into the hotel. In the middle of the line, groups of frustrated people were detained and taken away by police as they tried to barge towards the front doors. Meanwhile, a rather large group of protesters angrily voiced their displeasure with CEDA over the organization's mismanagement of, and dishonesty concerning, the Green Flu.

Suddenly, gunshots could be heard coming from one of the upper floors of the hotel, causing the policemen outside to rush into the building.

Taking the opportunity, Ellis grabbed Keith from the truck and together with Dave, the two of them rushed towards the entrance of the hotel, shoving past the angry crowds. This resulted in a stampede of people following behind them from the back of the line. All control of the situation was lost as the horde of infected that had followed Ellis's truck now rounded the corner and entered the long stretch of pavement in front of the hotel.

Ellis and Dave huddled close together to protect Keith from being trampled by the crowd of terrified people as they made their way into the lobby towards the stairs. The horde began tearing through the ranks of helpless humans huddled together like a giant bait ball of sardines. Ellis tried his best to block out the massacre taking place before his eyes, choosing instead to keep his focus on Keith's motionless face as they began to carry him unsteadily up the stairs as frenzied individuals pushed past them.

Several policemen came back down the stairs and began to fire rather haphazardly into the throng, killing as many uninfected people as zombies. A terrifying scream- accompanied immediately by a dark, hooded figure- tore through the air. The thing landed on top of a cop next to Ellis and Dave, causing his gun to sail onto the corner of the staircase.

"God damn, what's going on?" Dave reached for the gun, nearly dropping Keith in the process as he fired a few shots at the demonic creature- all the shots missed their mark.

"We gotta keep movin' Dave!" Ellis felt sick as he watched the cop's face and neck get torn apart, but he had to get Keith up to the roof. As they continued their desperate, vertical journey, the amount of people running past them eventually ceased, and all that could be heard were the sounds of monsters screaming. Ellis's arms and legs were on fire by the time they had reached the half way point.

A fluttering tenor of maniacal laughter suddenly filled the young men's hearts with panic.

"I really don't like that noise…" Ellis whispered. Both men stopped when they realized the source of the sound was coming from the hallway beyond the door that led out into the rooms of the current floor. They nervously approached the doorway. Passing it was necessary to get to the roof, but whatever was making the noise was right next to the door.

"Imma check it out," Ellis offered. He had fired guns before- out in the woods with Keith- whereas Dave had no previous experience with firearms. "If somethin' goes wrong, get Keith outa here."

Dave knew better than to argue, and handed Ellis the cop's pistol.

The boy approached the open doorway as the cackling became louder, holding the gun in front of him with a trembling hand. After hesitating for a second, Ellis shoved his fear aside and whipped around the doorframe just in time to be blinded by a small, smelly, sinewy body.

The humpbacked creature latched onto him, twisting its body around as it thrusted its back and pelvis, causing Ellis to stumble away from the stairs towards the hallway. Ellis could feel the vibrations of the incessant laughter echoing through his brain. He could taste the foreign, human blood soaking the monster's fingers as they latched onto his face and mouth.

He could feel the creature's little erection as it rubbed against the back of his neck…

"GET HIM OOOOOOOFF!"

Despite having told Dave to continue without him, Ellis couldn't help but plead for his friend's help as the little beast shuttled him down the hallway. However, Dave didn't come to help him. Ellis could see the rapidly approaching window but he simply couldn't resist the Jockey's influence over his body. Ellis was terrified of heights, and the thought of crashing through the window from that high up was unbearable.

"OH, HELP! _PLEASE_ SOMEBODY!"

His desperate plea was answered just before he broke through the window. The creature's headless body melted off his back and bounced on the floor. Ellis followed suit, dropping down next to the Jockey as he gasped to catch his breath for several moments. He turned his head towards the hallway to find it mysteriously empty, and a pained cry from Dave sent him sprinting back to the stairway.

His friend was pinned to the wall by a Charger, and Ellis fired his pistol as the creature continuously slammed Dave into the floor of the staircase. It took a dreadful amount of bullets to finally take the creature down.

"Ugh…fuck." Dave moaned weakly as Ellis supported him. The back of his head was bleeding profusely. The man rose unsteadily to his feet, and Ellis watched in awe as Dave made his way over to Keith and grabbed his upper body.

"Come on, El...Were so fuckin' close."

Ellis bowed his head and his shoulders began to shake, but he lifted Keith's legs and together they made it to the top of the roof. A landed helicopter, its blades spinning at full speed, was preparing to take off as the few people who had made it to the top clamored aboard.

As Ellis and Dave approached with Keith, the pilot shouted to them.

"I don't have room for all three of you! I'm sorry!"

"Please sir, can ya' at least fit two in? My friends are hurt real bad!" Ellis shouted back. He could feel Dave's piercing stare burn into him.

"We can make room for at least two!" A middle-aged woman shouted to the pilot.

"Fine, we can make room for two." The pilot relented, "Another helicopter will arrive in about an hour."

"Ellis, I'm not leaving without you."

"You have to, Dave. You're hurt almost as bad as Keith. 'Asides you can't shoot worth shit." Ellis smiled slightly, but his lips were quivering. "So you gotta go with Keith…gotta take care 'a him…for me."

A huge lump formed in Dave's throat. He always hated seeing Ellis cry.

Ellis removed Keith's hat from his head and prepared to give it to Dave, but hesitated and held it fiercely to his chest. His thoughts turned back to last night as he remembered his final words to Keith. He looked into his freind's sleeping face- covered in bruises, grime, and a mixture of his and Dave's blood. The small patches of unsoiled skin were alamingly pale.

"I still mean it, Keith." Ellis choked out the words, then turned to Dave, "Take care a' him..."

The boy broke off into an immense fit of sobbing, the likes of which Dave had never seen before. The older man couldn't control his own tears from pouring down his face.

Dave was a very perceptive person. Over the years of growing up together he had sensed the growing feelings that Ellis had developed towards Keith. As such, he couldn't bring himself to tell Ellis that Keith was dead. That he had died before they even reached the hotel.

"I will, and I'll let him know how much you love him."

As he entered the helicopter, Dave cursed himself. His concern for Ellis's heart was about to override his desire for Ellis's safety. He was about to leave his friend behind on a lonely rooftop in order to maintain the illusion that Ellis had sacrificed his chance for survival on a beloved friend that would be ok, and not on a lifeless corpse.

As Dave rose up into the sky he shouted to Ellis at the top of his lungs.

"Promise me you'll stay on the roof! Just wait for the next helicopter!"

Ellis watched as the helicopter was slowly reduced to a dark speck in the utter vastness of the sky.

He closed his eyes when he smelled the rising smoke, and knew that he could no longer afford to stay on the roof.


	4. Chapter 4

A stream of slow, steady, forcefully loud banging on the door to his room abruptly wrestled Nick from his bizarre dreams. He quickly threw on his blue shirt without buttoning it, jumped into his pants, and crept slowly towards the door with the forlorn hope that something as benign as room service would be waiting on the other side. As he brought an eye tentatively to the peephole, he was greeted to the familiar sight of a police officer.

Nick gritted his teeth and slunk back over to the bed, quickly threw on his jacket, and fumbled with his shoes as the banging became more forceful. He then rushed over to the mini fridge and shoved its contents into his pockets before exiting through the window and traversing along the ledge.

"Holy shit!" Nick sucked in a hissing breath as he pressed his back against the side of the building. Of course the receptionist had to give him a room on the top floor.

"God damn cops…always so fucking persistent."

Despite his best effort not to, Nick looked down at the earth below him and was surprised at the sheer number of people grouped together on the ground. Suddenly, the deafening whir and blustering gust of helicopter blades nearly sent him over the edge as the rescue vehicle landed on the roof. Nick unceremoniously shot through the window of an adjacent room with the intent of making it to the stairs and up to the rooftop, not caring if it was occupied. Before he ducked into the empty room, he caught sight of the policeman sprinting fearlessly across the ledge towards him.

"What the fuck?" Nick snarled as he opened fire. He knew he was popular with the police, but this was a ridiculous stunt even for the most stalwart, reckless, rookie cop.

"Looks like you're literally dying for a promotion, you pathetic little boy scout!" Nick shouted derisively as his bullets struck their mark. He jumped into the room and scrambled over to the door with his gun outstretched as he quickly scanned both ends of the hallway. Finding it empty, he swiftly ran towards the stairway, only to run into another policeman- whom he nonchalantly shot in the shoulder.

"AH, FUCK! Wait, don't shoot! Stop!" The officer was frantic with fear.

Seeing that he was unarmed, Nick decided to humor him.

"Say your peace, but I'm gonna shoot you no matter what." Nick smirked, "I seem to have developed a taste for cop blood."

"You have no idea what's going on, do you?" The policeman was interrupted by a chaotic blend of footsteps, hacking coughs, and frenzied screams- both human and non-human. Several of the non-humans made their way up the stairs towards them, and Nick immediately high tailed it in the opposite direction, back down the hallway.

"God damn it!"

Nick began firing as he sprinted towards the elevator. The rooftop could only be reached via the staircase and therefore he would be forced to descend to a lower level once inside the elevator- assuming he could hold off the creatures until the door opened.

Halfway down the hall, something lunged at Nick from one of the rooms, sending him to the floor. Looming over him was the cop that had been banging on his door. He was dripping blood onto Nick's suit from the gunshot wounds, along with copious amounts of dark brown saliva from his snarling mouth. The creature's eyes were cue balls devoid of pupils.

"God damn it! God damn it! God damn it!"

Nick began frantically beating the zombie's face with his gun, closing his eyes and mouth shut all the while as body fluids rained down on him. If only he had taken the vaccine last night. To make matters worse, the uninfected policeman- with the small horde nipping at his heels- was preparing to leap over him and continue towards the elevator.

Nick promptly shot the man in the leg, sending the unfortunate bastard screaming to the floor as the creatures descended upon him. The conman then shoved his oppressor off and bolted the rest of the way to the elevator. He slammed on the button and reloaded his pistol, nearly having a panic attack as he wiped the infected blood off of his face.

"Come fucking on!" Nick beat the door with his fist as the zombies began abandoning the sufficiently mutilated police officer and headed towards him. When the door opened, he rushed inside and randomly pressed a button- he didn't care what floor he was headed to, as long as the damn door closed.

Just as Nick was home free, one of the zombies thrust its arm through the narrowing gap of the closing door, causing the censor to force the door back open. Nick let out a terrified yell as all of the zombies poured into the narrow tomb of the elevator. His trigger finger never moved more rapidly in his life as he hunkered down against the wall and blasted away at the creatures. He shoved the ones directly in front of him, causing them to stagger momentarily within the cramped space. He then dove between their legs and out of the elevator just before it closed, banishing the monsters to whatever floor he had pressed on the console.

Nick flew back down the hallway, determined to make it to the roof. No sooner had he crossed the threshold of the doorway before a giggling ghoul leapt on top of him. He tumbled down a flight of stairs with the creature absorbing most of the force of their fall. Its grip was loosened, and Nick kicked the little monster in the ribs before running down the remaining steps to the next floor and into a large all-purpose room. He simply had to catch his breath. He was panic-stricken, and his heart felt like it was going to explode.

Nick could see charts and graphs all over the walls. Apparently CEDA had been using the room for a conference meeting. A large map of the US displayed, to Nick's dismay, that the entire east coast was already overrun with the Infection. He did, however, note that Louisiana- specifically New Orleans- was circled with a bright red marker.

Nick could hear the creature swiping at the door. That little thing's hands had been all over his face.

Nick suddenly felt his stomach turn, and he vomited uncontrollably all over the map.

"Fuck!"

He had to administer the vaccine before it was too late. Perhaps it already was. His hands dove into his pockets, but he only found the syringe filled with the sterile diluent. Nick snarled. The vial with the powder must have slipped out of his pocket when he fell. That balding little bastard was going to pay.

He heard the creature shuffle away from the door, still producing the sinister laughter. Nick opened the door cautiously and followed the little monster as it made its way further down the staircase. The conman stopped when he noticed the vial and picked it up. The sound of an oddly familiar human voice below him caused Nick to venture further down the stairs- despite his better judgment.

His pace quickened when he heard the screams.

"OH, HELP! PLEASE SOMEBODY!"

Nick sprinted into the hallway, determined to kill the hideous little creature. He watched as it led its new victim towards a window and aimed with great care at the back of its head. Nick sighed with relief as the laughter finally ceased. He then frantically ducked into one of the staff bathrooms to administer the vaccine once and for all.

Upon entering, he was immediately gripped by a feeling of dread, and a weighty heaviness hovered all around him. The air inside the bathroom was thick and extremely difficult to breath in. He could practically taste the stench, and it had the sickening flavor of decay- not excrement. Although the lights were on, they seemed extremely dim and muted, and failed to properly expel the inexplicable darkness within.

As he slowly approached the toilet stall, he caught a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye and he immediately fired his gun. The shards that had held his own reflection erupted throughout the room, producing almost musical chimes as they ricocheted off the surfaces of the sink and floor.

The conman wiped his brow, entered the stall and locked the door behind him. Nick reconstituted the vaccine. He trembled as the powder mixed with the diluent and changed to the same glowing, eerie green it had been in his dream. The conman pulled down his pants and shoved the needle into his backside. He knew enough to administer the vaccine intramuscularly, and figured if it was going to make him sore, it would be easier to aim a gun with a sore ass than a sore arm. The vaccine stung terribly, and he hissed as the liquid entered into his muscle. Not knowing what to do with the empty syringe, Nick threw it in the toilet.

He suddenly became aware of another presence with him in the bathroom, emanating from beyond the closed toilet stall. The feeling sent an uncontrollable shiver throughout his entire body. Nick sucked in ragged breaths as he placed his hand on the door to the stall, still gripping the gun fiercely. The sense of foreboding terror was driving him mad as he slowly opened the door and anticipated the horror that awaited him on the other side.

His heart froze.

No amount of mental preparation could have prevented him from uttering the almost inhuman scream that slithered from his throat at the sight of the dark abomination that was crouched in front of the door. Nick couldn't peel his eyes away from the indescribable, unspeakably horrible face that bared double rows of blood-drenched teeth. The monstrosity emitted a singular growl of the lowest, deepest audible pitch that reverberated throughout Nick's being before it lunged and smothered him with the weight of its body.

Nick couldn't move. He couldn't think.

An icy jolt of pain traveled from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet, and a feeling of hopelessness gripped his heart. He felt as though he was being consumed. Another jolt of pain, this one filled with fiery heat, caused him to scream in agony. The shock of the pain caused his eyes to water as he shut them tightly. Immense, talon tipped hands, covered in sandpaper-like scales wrapped around his throat. He felt the claws dig into his neck, and felt his hot blood flow onto the floor. One of the hands left his neck and began to attack his chest. The creature wasn't slashing at him; it was simply driving its claws into the muscle, searching to pierce his heart with the sheer force of its driving thrust.

"Help…"

The word, aimed at no one in particular, somehow managed to escape from Nick's clamped windpipe in a barely audible wheeze. It was a word that he had never said before- a word that he had never needed to say.

He suddenly became aware of a pleasantly cool hand pressed against his burning forehead.

"Don't worry sir. Ellis has gotcha' now."

The soothing balm of a voice eased the pain and weight over Nick's body, and he opened his eyes to find the evil being gone- replaced completely by a young man kneeling on the ground next to him.

"Are you alright? I heard you screamin."

"Where'd that thing go?"

"What thing?"

"How did you- you didn't see…" Nick was shaking violently, wondering if he had lost his mind as the young man lifted him off the tiled floor. He held a hand up to his neck to find it unharmed. "What are you staring at?"

"Well...you 'a course." The young man smiled, and Nick realized that he still had his pants down.

"My name's Ellis, what's yours?"

"Nick." The conman immediately lifted and buckled his pants and rushed over to the sink. He began obsessively washing the grime off his hands and face.

"Pleasure to meet you, Nick." Ellis's grin was wide. He clearly recognized the man from last night.

"What the fuck are you doing here, kid? Shouldn't you be headed towards the roof? Or do you not care that this place is crawling with flesh eating monsters?"

"I was already on the roof. There was a chopper, but it left." Ellis's voice trailed off.

"Perfect, just perfect." Nick muttered. He retrieved his gun and headed towards the door.

"Hey, I'm pretty sure the buildin's on fire! So we gotta be extra careful on the way down."

"We?"

"Well, I figured maybe we could stick together. I ain't got nobody else. Anyways, don't you recognize me?"

Both men made their way back down the hallway towards the stairs. How could Nick have possibly forgotten the kid? He quickly shoved the thoughts of his dream to the back of his mind.

"Nope." Nick dismissed the boy quickly as they both ran down several flights of stairs.

"Well I sure recognize you, Mr. Fancy Suit." Ellis grinned, "You got any idea why there's zombies all over the place?"

"Zombies, huh? Well if that's what you want to call them- they're all sick with a virus." Nick suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and quickly noted the scratches on Ellis's nose and arms. He began to back away slowly.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing…let's just keep moving." Nick realized that he needed to keep an eye on the kid, lest he suddenly change into one of the creatures and turn on him.

Both the smoke in the air, and the piles of bodies on the ground, became thicker the further the pair descended down the stairs. Eventually it became impossible for them to proceed any further.

"Damn, this is jus' terrible. They was jus' trying a' get away." Ellis stated softly as he observed the tangled mounds of bodies of his fellow Savannah residents littering the stairs.

"Let's try the elevator on this floor." Nick stated quickly, "There's way too many bodies clogging these stairs. We might trip or break our legs trying to get down."

They proceeded cautiously through the hallway. The smoke obscured their surroundings in a gray, gloomy haze and caused Ellis to cough rather forcefully.

"Keep your head down, kid."

Ellis obeyed, and instantly found it easier to breathe. They both heard more coughing in the distance.

"Maybe we'll find more people," Ellis suggested hopefully.

Nick eyed another pistol on the ground and quickly picked it up.

"Are you armed, kid?"

"Yeah, I got a pistol."

"Good, so now I have two."

"No fair, man."

They reached the elevator, but found a slew of corpses strewn about in front of it.

"Guess this one wasn't working." Nick tried the button, but indeed it was jammed. "Let's get to the one on the other side, but get ready kid. I'm sure we'll run into whatever caused this massacre."

Sure enough infected rushed them as they ran through the hallway, and they were eventually surrounded by a mob. Nick tore through the monsters on his side with little difficulty, rapidly filling their faces with lead from both pistols. Ellis was having more trouble staving them off with just the one.

A zombie struck the boy's forehead, sending him backwards into Nick, and the conman stumbled to the floor. Ellis regained his balance and kept himself from falling on top of Nick, who continued to shoot at the horde as he slowly rose to his feet.

"You've gotta be more careful, Ellis."

"Yeah, sorry. Man I wish I had somethin' better than this measly lil' gun."

The number of zombies was momentarily thinned, allowing the men to proceed further down the smoky hallway.

"So, you really don't recognize me, man? You dropped somethin' when you ran into me. What were you up to last night, anyways? You was in a pretty big hurry…and were those cops chasin' you? I bet they were, weren't they!"

"Fucking candyass cops. Yeah they were chasing me."

"Why?"

"Too many reasons to name, kid."

"Whoa...Badass!" Ellis sounded genuinely impressed, "Well, I better stay on your good side then!"

"Who said you were on my good side?"

"Oh, come on, man!"

A section of the ceiling above them suddenly caved in, raining down debris around them and decreasing the visibility to near zero. More infected began approaching from down the hall. Nick shot through one of the windows to let some fresh air in, and decided to crawl out onto the ledge.

"This way kid."

"Aw, you're shittin' me, right?"

"No, but you're welcome to stay behind if you want. Actually, go ahead and stay, you'll slow them down for me." Nick smirked and began to walk along the ledge, the urgency of the situation caused him to move rather swiftly.

"Hey wait up!" Ellis shouted as he clamored awkwardly onto the ledge. The boy began crawling after Nick on his hands and knees, holding his breath as he kept his eyes from wandering down towards the distant ground below him.

"Scared of heights, kid?" Nick couldn't contain his amusement and began laughing at the poor boy.

"Nah, I ain't scared!" Ellis shouted, nearly slipping in an attempt to move more quickly.

"Well then move your ass cuz they're right behind you!" Nick shot at the zombies that came pouring onto the ledge. Some of the over eager creatures ran right off, bouncing and splattering onto the pavement after a seemingly endless freefall. The rest began to sprint towards Ellis at an alarming pace.

The boy tried to aim his pistol behind him, but was struck with a nauseating feeling of vertigo as he caught sight of the ground below him.

"Aw, fuck," Ellis moaned. He gripped the ledge with his free hand as the creatures piled onto him. Nick continued to shoot them off, but as they fell, one of the zombies latched onto Ellis' leg and dragged him over the edge.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

Ellis fell ten feet but managed to grab the ledge of the next floor down. He kicked his feet savagely and the zombie lost its grip on his leg.

"FUCK!" The boy heard Nick shout above him.

"I'm still here, Nick! Please, help me out!" The mechanic tried to lift himself, but he was hanging on by his fingertips.

"Ellis if you fall, I'm gonna kick your ass!"

The boy smiled briefly, but looked up worriedly as his grip began to falter. To his disbelief, he saw the silhouette of Nick's legs against the backdrop of the sky above him. The conman was dangling just as precariously as he was, but unlike Ellis, Nick began to swing his legs back and forth. He built up enough momentum to launch himself through the window directly above Ellis, and quickly pulled the boy into the room.

Ellis lay on the floor and panted heavily for a few moments, his entire body was slick with sweat.

"Oh, man…I think I… pissed myself a little…thank you so much!" He managed between gasps, but quickly crawled over to Nick when he caught sight of him. The man was seated on the floor with blood seeping through the bottoms of his pants. He winced in pain as he pulled out large shards of glass embedded in his left leg.

"This is why you're not on my- good side." Nick clenched his jaw as he removed the last, largest piece from his shin.

"Aw shit, Nick, you're bleedin' like _crazy_!" Ellis' voice was laced with guilt and anxiety.

"Nice kid, you're real observant." Nick gripped his head as it began to pound, and he leaned back until he was lying on the floor. Ellis removed his t-shirt and wrapped it tightly around Nick's leg to stop the bleeding.

"Can you stand up? Please, try to get up." Ellis urged him gently and offered his hand. Nick stared at the shirtless young man for a few moments, his expression completely unreadable behind the mask of his poker face. He took the mechanic's hand and rose slowly to his feet.

"Need help walkin'?"

"No, I'm fine. My head hurts more than my leg."

They reached the working elevator and made their way down to the lobby. The smoke was unbearably thick, and Ellis had trouble seeing Nick despite the white suit and the fact that he was mere inches away from him.

"I really shouldn't have to tell you to stay close, right kid?"

"Nope."

The door opened and the two men stepped into a raging inferno. Nick's feet brushed against a corpse that held a submachine gun in it's clammy hands. He grabbed it and handed one of his pistols to Ellis.

"Let's move!"

Ellis could barely hear Nick over the roar of the flames and the screams of the zombies, but the two of them managed to stay side by side as they traversed the fiery labyrinth. A large group of zombies ran through a wall of fire in an attempt to attack them, and Ellis nervously dodged the burning bodies as they staggered past him, hoping that they wouldn't come into contact with his bare flesh.

As the blazing smoke burned his lungs, Ellis' mind was wrenched back to the burning auto shop.

"Keith…"

A flaming specter that materialized from the conflagration in front of him snapped the boy back to attention. The yellow suited zombie, made golden by the flames that danced harmlessly across its surface, brushed into Ellis' arm as the boy unsuccessfully tried to avoid its headlong rush. Ellis cried out from the searing heat, but managed to shoot the creature down. He erupted into a coughing fit, and when he steadied himself, he realized that he had completely lost Nick.

His emotional shock was accompanied by the physical shock of something horribly cold that wrapped itself around his hot skin. Before he could react, he was sliding across the floor on his back.

Already winded from the smoke, Ellis was now completely unable to breath. When he came to a stop, he could feel a slender, slimy body covered in voluminous boils, press against his smooth back. Ellis's vision blurred as the creature struck his head repeatedly, and he nearly blacked out completely when a gunshot caused the creature to release a cloud of filthy smoke.

Ellis crumpled to the ground. A toxic mixture of the smoke from the flames and the monster's own noxious fumes were assaulting his lungs and brain with every breath. He tried to crawl away from the deadly cloud, but his motor functions had all but shut down completely.

"Come on, sweetie. I can get you up, but I can't carry you."

Ellis felt himself being lifted off the floor. He wobbled unsteadily for only a few steps until his legs caved under his own weight.

"Coach, I need help! I found somebody else!"

* * *

Ellis opened his eyes to see a young woman standing over him.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Rochelle."

"Pleasure ta'…pleasure…ta'…"

"Just save your strength, baby."

"Where's Nick…"

"I'm right here, kid."

"Gosh, N…Nick. So glad yur' ok." The boy smiled weakly, and as he stared up at Nick's face he began to chuckle, which caused him to cough until his sides ached.

"Come on Ellis, just relax and cut that shit out. What's so damn funny anyway?"

"Nuthin'. This just reminds me…of a dream I had last night…"

The conman's eyes widened slightly.

"It was…about you…Nick." Ellis closed his eyes and fell asleep, oblivious to the swaying motion of the hotel as it prepared to collapse around him.


	5. Chapter 5

"Ellis, behind you!"

The boy whirled around at the sound of Rochelle's voice, just in time to be showered in a mist of blood droplets that sprung from the open facial cavity of a zombie, blown apart by the woman's rifle.

The morning was bright and would have been beautiful were the sun not illuminating the aggregation of slaughtered humanity that littered Savannah's streets. The newly formed quartet had managed to escape the now demolished hotel and were making their way cautiously towards Liberty Mall under Ellis's suggestion.

"Thanks, Ro."

"What's the matter, Hun? Still feeling groggy? Let's find a safe place for you to rest up."

"No, no really I'm ok," Ellis wiped the zombie blood off his brow, straightened his posture, and displayed a bright, warm smile, "I 'preciate your concern though. Really I do."

Rochelle narrowed her eyes. She could tell that something was wrong with the young man whom she had instantly warmed up to.

"I know we just met, sweetie, but I'm here for you. So whenever you want to talk, just let me know." The young woman turned to catch up with Coach and Nick, but only took two steps before Ellis stopped her.

"Um, Ro? I'd like to talk now."

A few paces ahead of them, Nick was eyeing Coach uneasily, taking in his eerily familiar features as the older man led the group down the street. The conman quickly assessed that the man had no visible scratches or bite marks.

Nick's head was still pounding, and his rear end was starting to get sore from the vaccine. To make matters worse, he was constantly fighting the urge to vomit for fear that it might cast suspicion on him- perhaps even cause the others to shoot him on sight.

Sweat began to trickle down Nick's forehead, not simply because of the mass of warm, moist, summer-like air moving in from further south, but also because he was tense, nervous, and on edge.

"So, what's- your- name…what's your story?" Nick asked, a bit too loudly.

"Like I said earlier, you can call me Coach. I'm a-"

"Let me guess- a coach?" Nick interrupted, rolling his eyes, "Yeah, I figured as much. Listen, I don't think heading towards some freakin' mall is a good idea. We aren't far from the coast, so it would be a lot quicker getting out of this God-forsaken hell hole of a city if we took a boat."

"Listen, mister!" Coach growled, "I'm takin' us to the mall. That's the plan and we're sticking to it."

"Whoa, there's no need to get pissy!" Nick could feel his headache-induced anger rising, "And anyway, who died and made you the leader?"

"Pissy? This ain't pissy! Keep badmouthin' my home and we'll see what happens!"

"Aw, baby I'm sorry about your friends. I'm sure you'll see them again soon," Rochelle pursed her lips as her thoughts turned longingly to her missing, and presumably dead boyfriend.

Ellis could sense the doubt and strained optimism in Rochelle's voice and was quiet for a moment.

"Keith is..." It had only been a few hours since the helicopter had flown away and already the weight of Keith's absence was crushing him. He could feel the slightest inkling of tears threatening to well up in his eyes, but he successfully held them at bay. Ellis was determined not to let his new companions see him cry.

"From what you've told me, it seems like Keith and Dave are really lucky guys to have you for a friend," Rochelle offered with true sincerity.

"Nah, I was always the lucky one," the boy's face was glowing and just looking at him lifted Rochelle's spirits, "There was this one time when Keith and I-"

"Cue ball!"

"Monkey suit!"

"Butter ball!"

"Punk ass, bitch!"

"Ass wipe! Asshole! FAT ASS!"

"Ok, what in the hell is going on here?" Rochelle exclaimed as she ran over to stop the heated argument that had erupted between Nick and Coach, "You two are grown ass men, so start acting like it!"

"He started it!" Nick yelled.

"Oh dear, God!" Rochelle rolled her eyes and shook her head in disgust.

* * *

The four continued on in silence. The tension in the air was almost as oppressively thick as the humidity. Nick had fallen behind the rest of the group, partly because he was pissed off, and partly to conceal his increasingly awkward, splayed limp. His ass was killing him, and the cuts on his leg only made things that much worse.

"Fucking bullshit…" he mumbled as he rubbed his temples. He looked down at the bloodied, yellow shirt wrapped around his leg, then found himself studying the beads of sweat that traveled down the sculpted, sun kissed back of the young man who had so generously donated it to him.

Unbeknownst to any of them, a Hunter was perched atop one of the buildings, observing the survivors as they passed by. It lavishly lapped the blood off of its forearms with a pointed tongue before emitting short, barely audible clicks as it judged the distance between itself and its prey. Like a fox in a hen house, the creature had long since eaten its fill, and was now killing for the sheer sport of it- reveling in the soothing rush of air against its sun-dried skin as it rode the winds with every leap. Ruby fangs glistened as the Hunter chose its target- the one that seemed to lag ever so slightly behind- the one whose steps seemed clumsy- the one whose attention was captured by prey of his own. The Hunter cocked its head to the right and forcefully snorted two puffs of air from its nose.

The beads of the mechanic's sweat gently pooled into, and were absorbed by, the bunched up overall straps tied securely- teasingly- around his hips. Nick watched those hips as they gently swayed with every confident step.

A whiff of a disagreeable, musky odor and a rustle of leaves within the lengthy rows of ornamental scrubs that lined the streets caused the conman to stop abruptly. Unsure of the exact location of the sound, Nick held the small machine gun protectively in front of him. Although he continued to move in the direction of the others, Nick's pace slowed as he kept his gaze on the bushes- unaware that the distance between himself and the rest of the group was increasing with every passing moment. Again Nick fought back the urge to vomit as he stared into the foliage. His finger twitched as it hovered over the trigger. Suddenly, another rustle in the bushes occurred directly behind him and as he whipped around, a Hunter leapt from the bushes. Nick dodged to the side as the creature soared past him and landed between him and the rest of his now distant group.

Nick opened fire as the Hunter performed terrifying feats of agility. It zigzagged nimbly towards him, dodged all of his bullets and purposely forced him to retreat further away from the others. Nick could see Ellis turn around frantically at the sound of his gunfire, but the mechanic was so far away.

The Hunter chased Nick further and further back down the street as it continued its series of zigzagging leaps.

"REEEEEAAAAAAAHHHH!"

Nick ducked immediately upon hearing the horrific scream and the Hunter that had been on the building careened through the air, narrowly missing him before landing right next to the other one.

"Hang on, Nick!" Ellis was sprinting towards them at such a furious pace that he could not keep his pistols steady enough to aim at the two Hunters. Further behind the mechanic, Rochelle stopped running and crouched on one knee, hoping desperately to hit one of the creatures with a well aimed shot from her assault rifle. Even further behind her, Coach was struggling to move more quickly than a brisk jog. The older man had no hope of shooting down anything with his pump shotgun at that distance.

Nick dodged and fired frantically in an attempt to hold his own until Ellis could reach him. He just knew that he had to keep himself from getting bitten long enough for the vaccine to take full effect.

Like a pair of wolves, the Hunters took turns lunging at Nick, each one using half the energy to tire their prey out twice as quickly. Nick pressed his back against the side of a building and shoved one of the creatures back with the broad side of his gun, but before he could aim at the staggered zombie, the other one lunged at him. Again Nick shoved it back, but by this time, the first Hunter had recovered and leapt at him once more.

The conman somehow managed to shove it back yet again, but the force of the pounce knocked him into the wall, and he fell to his knees. His fatigue was building, and he could feel the burning lactic acid accumulating in his arms. His ass was on fire, and combined with his migraine and nausea, Nick was completely overwhelmed.

Just as one of the Hunters crouched for yet another leap, it let out a surprised yelp when Ellis sailed through the air and pounced on top of it.

Nick's jaw dropped as he watched Ellis pin the creature to the ground. The conman could have sworn that the Hunter shared the same look of sheer astonishment- even terror- on its horrible face as the mechanic used its own technique against it. The other Hunter even stopped to stare in apparent confusion long enough for Rochelle to drive several bullets into its back and shoulder. The injured creature screamed and leapt to the side.

"YOU. DON'T. MESS. WITH. NICK!" Ellis screamed and savagely fired both pistols at the pinned Hunter's head. Before dying, the creature managed to take a swipe at the boy's ribs as Ellis filled its face with lead at point blank range.

The second hunter's feet touched the ground for a split second before lunging one final time at Nick. The beast seemed determined to destroy him in particular. Nick watched it approach in slow motion as he aimed the machine gun. He was aware of the hollowed, ocular cavities as the wind swept the hood away from its face, and could see the gaping, lustful, razor lined jaws spread wide. The mouth was open so wide, in fact, that Nick chose to make it his target. His bullets entered the creature's mouth and pierced the base of its skull on their way out.

Although the Hunter was dead, the momentum of its body was not hampered in the slightest by the modest power of Nick's submachine gun. The corpse continued its flight towards him.

Its jaws were still wide open.

They pierced the flesh just above Nick's clavicle.

"Mother fucker!" Nick roared as he pried the lifeless creature off of himself.

He jumped to his feet and spun frantically in all directions, searching in vain for a water fountain, a puddle, _anything_ to wash the virus-laced saliva from his wound. Of course there was nothing of the sort to be found, and Nick grabbed fistfuls of his hair in utter frustration as he let out an avalanche of profanities in the vilest combinations that Ellis had ever heard.

"It's ok, Nick! It's ok!" The mechanic approached him slowly to avoid the conman's fury, "He won't be botherin' you no more. That was a hell of a shot! God damn, you're freakin' amazin'!"

Rochelle and Coach were still a little ways off. Coach had tripped on the way over and the girl was helping him onto his feet.

"That fucking thing bit me, Ellis! Bit me!"

"Yeah, I saw, but you ain't hurt too bad though, right? It don't look too bad at least. It ain't bleedin' much."

"You don't get it, do you kid? Don't you remember what I said? This thing is a virus. If it isn't airborne then what better way for it to spread than from a wound?"

"Ok, ok, calm down," Ellis placed a hand on Nick's shoulder, "We've all been scratched and junk. I mean, just look at what the other one did to me just now. If we were gonna turn inta' zombies, I'm pretty sure it woulda' already happened."

"Maybe you've got nothing to worry about kid, but I- I…"

Ellis watched the panicked look on Nick's pale, sweat drenched face and wished he could ease the man's worries. Hearing Rochelle's words to him just a few minutes ago gave him the courage to offer Nick what she had offered him.

"I'm here for you, Nick. You can tell me anything… I love ta' talk, but I'm a good listener too. Alright?"

For a moment, Nick felt the urge to tell Ellis how horribly ill he was feeling, but the others had now joined them, and he didn't want to say anything in front of Coach.

"Nick, why didn't you speak up earlier if you was havin' trouble?" Coach didn't try to hide his annoyance.

"Maybe it's because I don't need your help. Have you thought about that?" Nick snarled, "And some help you turned out to be anyway. Did you have a nice trip, Coach?"

"Look, as much as I can't stand you, you're still a part of this team and I'm gonna do everything I can to lead all of you out of here. We need to work together if we're gonna make it to the mall."

"How noble of you, old man!" Nick's voice dripped with sarcasm, "Again, who died and made you the leader?"

"I was born and raised here, Nick! I think I know my way to the mall better than a slimy, ne'er do well, tourist like you! God damn, I've never met anyone who could get under my skin the way you do!" Coach was trying his best not to fully lose control of his temper.

"Again with the mall!" Nick threw his hands up in the air, "Alright let's call a vote right now! We can either head towards the God damn mall or head towards the water."

"We can't have a proper vote with an even number of people," Rochelle pointed out, "Besides Nick, I'm pretty sure you're going to lose. I'm siding with Coach on this one. There's another evac taking place there so it's our best bet."

"What do you know about betting, lady?" Nick glared at her, and then turned to Ellis, "Alright kid, what do _you_ say?"

Ellis stammered for a moment.

"Uh…I'm sorry, Nick."

"God damn you people! I think we all got a taste of how a CEDA evac goes down! Those morons have no idea what they're doing! I guarantee you that if we even make it to the mall its gonna end up the same as the hotel. Mark my words!"

"You finished bitchin' and moanin', Nick?" Coach folded his arms. A frown was plastered on his face.

"No! Despite what you may think, I'm not some fucking tourist. I've been down here before, and I was planning on hitting up the riverboat casino. We just have to acquire a boat, any boat, get past the barrier islands and-"

"And then what, Nick? Die out at sea?" Coach scoffed, "We're stayin' on dry land. Three to one. You _lose._"

Nick gnashed his teeth together and began stepping towards Coach in a threatening manner.

"Oh, so that's how you want it?" Coach snarled and marched right up to meet Nick's approach."

"Knock it off, you two!" Rochelle scrambled up to Coach and grabbed his arm, "You're better than this."

Coach looked down at Rochelle and his expression instantly softened.

"Ha! I knew you were a little bitch!" Nick snarled.

Coach balled his hands into fists and his arms began shaking violently at the conman's taunt. At any moment he was going to swing.

"Crazy weather we're havin' huh, guys?" Ellis shouted in a desperate attempt to diffuse the situation, "Wheeeeeeew weee! I am burnin' _up_! Are you as hot as me, Nick? It's like it was summer or somethin'!"

Nick stared at the mechanic for a moment then rolled his eyes.

"Are you fucking kidding, Ellis? I'm sweating like a whore in church!"

"Oh yeah?" Ellis grinned, "Well I'm sweatin' like a…like a kiddie fiddler in a Barney suit!"

Nick erupted into a fit of intense laughter. Rochelle held a hand to her mouth and started giggling.

"You and your goofy ass, boy!" Coach folded his arms and began chuckling softly.

Ellis sighed in relief, and wanted to continue with a more lighthearted conversation.

"It's all fun an' games now, but those things really freak me out!"

"What? Kiddie fiddlers or Barney suits?" Nick asked.

"Barney suits," Ellis replied matter of factly, "But it don't have ta' be Barney. It could be any kind a character costume. For instance, when my buddy Keith turned eight years old, he had his birthday party at Chuck e Cheese's, and I was havin' a blast in the ball pen, but then it came time for Keith ta' blow out the candles on his cake. Well, unbeknownst ta' the two of us, that creepy mouse and some crazy purple guy snuck up behind us an'-"

"Alright son, let's get movin'." Coach patted Ellis on the shoulder in a silent 'thank you.'

"Okay."

Rochelle followed closely beside Coach, while Ellis hung back.

"Come on, Nick. I know you ain't happy 'bout it but, well we gotta stick together."

"Screw you, Ellis. I know where your loyalties lie. To think I risked my life for you. I should have just let that little bastard zombie steer you out of that window."

Nick begrudgingly began following Coach and Rochelle, several paces behind them. Ellis walked side by side with Nick. Talking about Keith made the boy remember all of the great times that the two of them had shared. It really lifted his mood.

"Wow, that was you who killed that little thing? I shoulda' known," Ellis said thoughtfully, "Listen, Nick, I just want everyone ta' get along. Coach was my gym teacher back in high school. He's a real nice guy, just like I know you are, deep down."

"You don't know shit about me, Ellis."

"Well, I would like to."

* * *

The group continued on towards the mall, and Ellis suggested that they stop at a local gun store to acquire better weaponry.

"Yeah, Jockey!" Ellis shouted, "That's not the first name I woulda' picked for 'em, but I guess it'll do. So now we got's names for all a' them bastards! We did good, Nick."

The divide between Nick and Coach had not resolved simply because the two of them were not speaking with one another. Rochelle had firmly sided with Coach, and barely spoke with Nick. Ellis found himself caught in the middle, quite literally. At least twenty feet of space separated Coach and Rochelle from Nick, and the boy had fallen back to keep the conman company. He liked all three of his new companions and was the only one who could even tolerate Nick, let alone actually like the guy.

"Hey, Nick?"

"Yeah."

"How's your leg?"

"It's fine."

"Hey, Nick?"

"Yeah."

"How's your head?"

"It's fine."

"Hey, Nick?"

"Jesus Christ..."

"What was in that package that you dropped last night?"

Nick remained silent.

"Cuz I thought I saw, I mean, it was hard ta' see through all that wrapping, but I though I saw a…_needle_."

"So what?"

"Do you do _drugs_, Nick?" Ellis whispered gravely despite the others being out of earshot.

Nick quickly ran over to a dumpster and vomited on the ground next to it.

"Whoa! You alright?"

"I'm fine, Ellis."

"I'd be a real shame if you did drugs, Nick."

"God damn, it! They were…steroids, alright? Now get off my back!" Nick was too exasperated to explain the truth to the boy.

"Steroids?" Ellis eyed Nick up and down, "Sorry bud, but they don't seem ta' be workin' all that great."

"Ha!" Nick scoffed.

"Now these babies here, they're _all _natural!" Ellis smiled and flexed his chest and biceps, "I could give you some pointers, if you want."

"Twenty bucks says you've got chicken legs."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Then prove it, Overalls…" Nick's eyes narrowed, but he managed to hide the sly smile that threatened to form across his lips.

"Overalls?"

"Yeah, that's your new nickname."

"Well, I don't like that at all!"

"You don't like overalls?"

"Nope, not one bit."

"Well then why do you wear them? Take them off, chicken legs!" Nick was no longer able to hide his amusement.

"Yeah, I'll prove you wrong, alright!" To Nick's surprise, Ellis began untying the straps of his overalls, but was interrupted by Coach.

"Pick up the pace, you two!"

"Comin' Coach!" Ellis tied up his overalls once more and swiftly pointed a finger at Nick, "You'll be payin' up real soon, just wait an' see." Ellis produced a sly smile of his own and ran ahead to catch up to Coach and Rochelle.

Nick scratched his head and followed behind him.

From his vantage point at the top of a long, narrow walkway, Coach could see a section of the mall's parking lot in the distance. He noticed CEDA's green tarps and tents but could not discern any sign of human activity. Then, he tensed up as he suddenly noticed a small crowd of people running desperately towards the mall's doors, but the surrounding architecture prevented him from seeing if they had made it inside.

Directly below him was the much smaller parking lot of the gun shop. Despite its modest size, it was brimming with zombies and the corpses of the unfortunate people who had tried to enter the store. The door to the place had been destroyed.

"God, I hope there's rescue inside that mall," Rochelle said softly as she walked up next to Coach. The man looked down at the petite, young woman and smiled.

"Even if there 'ain't, I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. We'll be alright, so keep your head up."

Rochelle placed her hand gently on Coach's arm.

"You remind me of someone."

"_Please_ don't tell me it's your father."

"No, no. Not at all!" The girl laughed at the worried expression on Coach's face, "We can talk about it later, if we ever get a moment alone that is."

Coach stared down at the zombie-filled parking lot.

"I'll hold you to that," he said gently, then in a much harsher tone, "Ellis! Nick! Game time!"

Once all four of them had gathered in a circle, Coach voiced his strategy.

"Since Rochelle and I have better guns, we'll man the frontline. Ellis, you and Nick are gonna cover our flanks and watch our backs. We need to move quickly. Don't stop unless someone gets into trouble, and if you do run into trouble, give a holler, understand?

"Sir, yes sir!" Ellis shouted and saluted with enthusiasm.

Nick glared at the boy and smacked the cap off his head.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Ellis cried out as he retrieved the hat before the wind could carry it off, "I can put up with a lot, Nick, but keep messin' with the hat and we're gonna have some serious problems!"

A cacophonous chorus resonated from the parking lot below them. The mechanic's yelling had alerted all of the zombies, and they were now rushing up the stairs of the walkway.

"There goes the damn plan!" Coach shouted as he fired his shotgun at the creatures as they funneled tightly onto the staircase. Rochelle joined in, and together they began making short work of the zombies until a Charger surged up the staircase and shoved Rochelle against the chain link fence that enclosed the walkway. The asymmetrical monster then barreled into Coach, and used the older man's body as a battering ram that knocked both Nick and Ellis to the side as it rampaged all the way back down the walkway.

Coach could sense that in mere moments, his no longer spry back would slam into the rapidly approaching concrete wall. The man thrust his long barreled shotgun between the Charger's legs, tripping the beast and sending both of them down to the pavement. The creature's massive weight rolled over Coach, and knocked his breath away. The man crawled over to his gun as the Charger tried to rise.

The misshapen brute had landed on its flimsy left arm, snapping the useless, shriveled appendage in several spots. Like a beached whale, it flailed awkwardly before rolling onto its dominant right side.

Coach found himself scrambling backwards as the Charger repeatedly drove its sledge hammer arm into the ground with each lumbering step. Each strike brought it closer and closer to the winded man. Coach fired and pumped the shotgun until the horrifying click of depleted ammo sent his spirits sinking. Before the behemoth arm could pummel him, a massive, deafening blast hurled the Charger ten feet through the air.

Coach looked behind him in astonishment.

"I think a 'thank you' is in order, Coach!" Nick's voice dripped with pride as he waved a hefty combat shotgun in the air. While Ellis was helping Rochelle back onto her feet, Nick had run into the gun store and grabbed the largest weapon he could find.

"The fuck you talkin' 'bout?" Coach huffed.

"You see that big-armed weirdo on the ground over there? You see how he's not moving? I did that."

"Well if _you_ hadn't made Ellis hoot an' holler-" Coach stopped himself and sighed, "Thanks."

"Yeah, well don't get used to it."

The four survivors gazed at the bountiful array of artillery as they stepped inside the store. Coach took the combat shotgun that Nick had abandoned, and Rochelle replaced her assault rifle with an AK-47. Ellis nearly salivated as he darted from one end of the shop to the other and discovered a chainsaw sitting in the corner.

"I don't even _need_ a gun so long as I have this baby! But, when in Rome…" The mechanic strapped the chainsaw to his back and ran over to the display. "Aw man, how can I possibly choose? Which one are you takin' Nick?"

"I don't know. I was thinking an AK, like Rochelle's."

"Oh sweet, sweet. I might go with the sniper rifle."

"Really, Overalls?"

"Yeah…why? You don't think it's a good choice?"

"It's just that I figured you to be more of the shotgun type," Nick folded his arms and spoke condescendingly, "The tact and sophistication of a sniper rifle seems…beyond you, acutally."

"Oh, _excuse me_! Well that settles it then. I'm _definitely_ takin' the sniper rifle now!" Ellis brushed past Nick and carefully, almost lovingly, removed the sniper rifle from the wall and ran over to equip the already accurate weapon with a laser sight upgrade.

"Ain't no _way_ Ima' miss them zombies!"

"What in the hell is all the ruckus down there?" A voice boomed over a loudspeaker. "More vandals, I take it!"

"Sir, we apologize, but we need to take some of your merchandise. Without it there's no way we're gonna make it over to the mall." Coach replied through the intercom.

"The mall? The way over there's blocked by a might' impressive pile up a' vehicles. Tell you what, I'll blast a way through if ya'll do me a little favor."

"Blast your way through, huh?" Ellis ran up next to Coach and shouted to the shop's owner, "I bet you're packing some serious heat up there!"

"Only my most valuable piece a' merchandise- an authentic military turret."

"Cool! Do you think I could fire it? Just once?"

"Boy, step away from the loudspeaker!" Coach warned the eager mechanic, then to the store owner, "What kind of favor are you talkin' about, here?"

"Cola…_Need..._Cola."

"O-kay…"

"There should be a case over at the convenience store across the lot. I dropped it in my rush to lock myself up here, and there's no way I'm going back outside!"

"So all we have to do is bring you some soft drinks?" Coach asked, slightly amused, "I sympathize with your cravings, mister. I myself am starvin' so, yeah, we'll bring you-"

"Not so fast, Coach!" Nick interrupted, "Have you even considered the opinions of the rest of us? I don't trust this guy!"

"Look, Nick…wait a second. Did y'all hear that? What was that growlin' sound?"

"Your stomach," the conman stated flatly.

Coach glared at Nick, but then Rochelle made her way over to the intercom.

"Hello, sir…what's your name, anyway?" she asked.

"Whitaker."

"Yes, Whitaker, now before we agree to run off and get you your Cola, I'm afraid you're going to have to do a little more for us."

"What did you have in mind?"

"We need bottled water, food, medical supplies, anything that you could spare."

"Now that doesn't sound like a fair deal! So you want me to give up some of my rations on top of the guns you stole? All for a measly case of Cola?"

"But that's precisely the point," Rochelle retorted, "You expect the four of us to risk our lives for that measly case of Cola! It's more than a fair deal."

"Careful, now! I just might drink it all up myself!" Ellis shouted.

"Alright, alright! It's a deal!" The panicked shop owner took the mechanic's jovial threat quite literally. He then unlocked the shop's back door. Before the survivors could make it up the stairs to the outside, they came face to face with the largest zombie they had yet seen.

"God damn you, Whitaker!" Nick screamed as the Tank attacked.


	6. Chapter 6

"Good God, what is that thing?" Rochelle screamed as the Tank took a swing at Coach, who had led the group up the stairs. An arm thicker than the average tree trunk missed the man's face by inches and demolished a section of the shop's wall. Coach lifted his gun and managed to fire once before the beast knocked him off the walkway. He landed on his back onto the hood of an alarmed car, whose siren immediately began to pierce the otherwise tranquil midday air.

Nick had been right behind Coach, so when the Tank lunged at him, Nick jumped onto the railing and dangled over the ledge before dropping down onto the parking lot. Only halfway up the stairs, Rochelle immediately backpedaled into the gun shop, bumped into Ellis, and knocked him off balance. The two of them fell down the remaining steps.

Rochelle jumped to her feet but nearly fell again due to the small earthquake caused by the Tank as it leapt down onto the lot in pursuit of Coach and Nick. Attracted to the alarm, zombies began pouring in from both entrances of the shop as Ellis slowly rose to his feet.

"Shit! Ellis, you hold them off here!" Rochelle quickly ran towards the non-existent front door and began firing her AK-47 as the creatures tried to funnel inside. Ellis obeyed the girl's order and stayed put at the bottom of the staircase. Each bolt of the boy's sniper rifle pierced through several of the zombies as they stampeded towards him. Ellis was forced into the crook of the wall as an alarming number of the ghouls rained down the steps. Unfortunately, their slain corpses became projectile weapons as they careened into the wall and piled up around him.

Rochelle's finger never left the trigger as she mowed down the horde in front of her. Rather than stopping to reload, she threw the gun at the zombies, grabbed another one, and resumed firing. Unfazed by the blood splattering onto her pretty face, the girl's thoughts were focused firmly on the boy behind her- she swore she had heard him grunt in pain- on Nick, Coach…especially Coach, and on the insanely huge monster that had driven them all apart.

Coach rolled off the hood of the car just before the Tank landed on it, crushing the vehicle like an aluminum can from the sheer weight of its berth. Coach looked around quickly for Nick as he gathered his shotgun, but the conman was nowhere to be found. The Tank was blocking the staircase, preventing him from rejoining Rochelle and Ellis, so Coach opened fire as the beast charged him.

"That's right, mother fucker!" Coach yelled, satisfied that the monstrosity was focused on him and that Rochelle was safe inside the shop. As he quickly backed away from the beast, several zombies collided into him from behind. Coach whirled in a circle, bludgeoning the creatures away with the large shotgun before resuming his defense against the Tank. As he approached the convenience store, he caught sight of Nick, who had blasted his way through the glass doors, which triggered another series of high-pitched ringing. Coach scowled in disapproval, but ducked when the Tank began hurling dead bodies at him.

Ellis was nearly buried under the pile of zombies he had killed when Rochelle reached him, and the two of them struggled to climb the corpse-ridden staircase.

"Come on, Ellis! Let's move!"

The girl looked over her shoulder when she realized that Ellis was having a bit too much trouble climbing the stairs.

"What's wrong?"

"I think I hurt my leg when we fell," Ellis said quickly.

"Oh baby, I'm sorry!" Rochelle instantly stopped her ascent, guilty that she had caused the boy to fall, "Maybe you should stay here while I-"

"I ain't a baby Ro, so just forget about my leg, alright? Let's go kill that big ass thing! Nick and Coach need us!"

Rochelle looked into Ellis's eyes for a moment, internalizing the fire burning within them. She nodded and ran out of the shop. The sight before her was not pretty as she scanned the lot. She could see Nick ducking into the convenience store, and her heart sprung to her throat at the sight of the Tank so close to Coach. She began to sprint down the steps and onto the lot when a stifled cry escaped from Ellis.

He was leaning against the railing with his right leg raised off the ground. His eyes were shut tightly as he winced in pain. Rochelle panicked. Ellis needed her, but so did Coach, and she didn't know what she should do.

"Go on without me Ro," the shame was all too apparent on the boy's face, "I'll cover you from up here."

"Just stay put, sweetie! We'll be back for you!" Rochelle tore across the parking lot as she aimed her AK at the Tank. She weaved and jumped over zombies whose heads were blown apart by Ellis's cover fire, but only managed to land a few shots at the Tank before the creature disappeared inside the store.

"What are you boys thinking?" Rochelle could just picture the Tank crushing the two men to death within the small confines of the building, but the rabid screams of an immense crowd of zombies broke her away from her morbid thoughts. She turned around and her eyes widened at the sight. Why hadn't Ellis warned her?

Rochelle looked up at the walkway and squinted her eyes to see Ellis clumsily make his way back into the gun shop.

* * *

Nick rummaged through the mostly bare aisles of the store, looking for anything of value as he made his way to the back towards the sliding door fridges. He knew he didn't have much time before something less than favorable made its way in after him. He spotted some soda and grabbed the case when a thunderous impact shook the very foundation of the store. Shelves came crashing down around Nick as he hunkered in a corner to avoid being crushed.

The store's alarm stopped ringing, and except for a dull, distant rumble, everything became eerily quiet for several moments. Dust and debris blanketed the air in a murky, dusky haze. Nick swallowed hard when he heard the deep breathing and the splintering explosions of aisles and shelves as they were hurled about. Deep grunts and roars vibrated through the walls of his chest as the Tank lumbered closer to the back of the store.

Nick crawled tentatively back towards the entrance as he clutched the case of cola under his arm, and muttered curses to Whitaker under his breath. He moved quickly whenever the Tank made a charge through the aisles, and stopped whenever the monster stopped to sniff the air. Nick shuddered at the thought of being stalked by such a terrible beast, which caused the glass bottles under his arm to clatter together. The Tank growled at the sound and shoved the aisle that Nick was hiding behind. The conman dove away before he could be crushed.

Keeping his head down, Nick scrambled towards the entrance, and nearly half way there, he barreled into Coach.

"Nick, what the fuck? We're supposed to stick together," Coach whispered.

"The sooner we can get that asshole his cola, the sooner we can get out of this God damned lot," Nick whispered back, "Besides, you seemed to be holding your own just fine."

The frustrated roar of the Tank dwarfed Coach's annoyed growl, and the two men abandoned all stealth and sprinted the rest of the way towards the doors.

They were greeted to the sight of Rochelle firing desperately into a sea of infected that were rushing towards the store. Coach immediately jumped out to stand beside the girl and was struck by the terrifying number of the ravenous beasts. The horrifically foul odor of their sweat and necrotic flesh mixed with the sour, metallic smell of the river of sticky blood that sloshed down the sloped contours of the parking lot-courtesy of Rochelle's efforts to stave monsters off.

"This doesn't look good, baby girl!" Coach pressed himself as closely as possible to Rochelle, but still had to yell at the top of his lungs to make himself heard above the stupendous screams and roars.

"If we don't make it through this…"

Rochelle didn't look up at him, simply because she couldn't afford to take her eyes away from the monsters. She did, however, briefly lean her head against Coach's strong arm as she continued to fire desperately into the horde.

Directly behind them, Nick simply stood wide-eyed, panting heavily as he clutched the case of cola in his slick, sweat drenched grip. He soaked in the horrible realization that he was trapped- hopelessly, utterly, trapped. The Tank was right behind him, and there was no way he could get around the wall of zombies in front of him. In mere moments, he would be crushed, mutilated-

Buried.

Nick's brows furrowed. Something was missing.

_Ellis…Ellis, where are you?_

* * *

The mechanic had seen the horde approaching Rochelle and knew he had to go down and help her no matter how badly his leg hurt, but as he hobbled across the walkway, a Jockey emerged from within the gun shop and latched onto his shoulders.

Ellis howled in agony as the creature not only forced him back into the shop, but also caused him to apply the combined weight of both their bodies onto his rapidly swelling leg. Again he stumbled down the staircase. Denied the joy of riding its victim, the Jockey's giggles were laced with frustration as the wretched little beast swiped at the boy. Ellis began brutally beating the Jockey with his long, elegant, sniper rifle. His anger intensified as the creature continued to cackle maniacally. As the dazed, little creature stumbled against the wall; Ellis skewered its windpipe with the tip of the weapon before blasting chunks of its esophagus through a clean hole in the back of its neck from the force of the shot. The boy almost smiled at the fact that this Jockey would laugh no more.

Ellis trembled violently as he struggled to rise from the floor. He was well aware of the screams emanating from the convenience store and knew he would get there even if he had to slither across the god damned parking lot on his belly, but if he wanted to get there _in time_ to help the others, he would have to fight the pain in his ankle. He used the rifle as a crutch to support himself as he stood up. A gurgling sound caused him to look towards the back of the shop, and he gritted his teeth as he witnessed a Boomer struggling to fit into the doorway. He lifted his rifle, but staggered.

_Come on, man, just fight it! Why can't you fight it?_

Ellis hobbled over to the loudspeaker.

_Fight the pain. Fight the pain. _

"Whitaker! I need a favor, man!"

_Think about Rochelle and…_

"What? Hah! Alright, but it's your funeral, boy! As long as I still get my cola!"

"Yeah, you'll still get the cola…"

_Think about Coach and…_

The Boomer belched loudly as it managed to squeeze inside the shop.

_Nick….Nick, Nick, Nick, Nick, NICK!_

Ellis slammed his injured foot against the ground. He no longer felt any pain as he rushed headlong at the Boomer.

* * *

Nick suddenly doubled over, shattering several of the soda bottles as the case slipped from his grip. He clutched his sides in pain as the sound of the exploding glass rang far louder than it should have. The screams of the horde, the roar of Coach's defiant battle cry, the thunderous footsteps of the Tank behind him, and the deafening throb of his own pulse all increased tenfold in intensity. Nick closed his eyes, trying desperately to shut everything out.

_Where are you?_

Nick opened his eyes and everything suddenly looked _different_. Nick couldn't wrap his mind around the difference because he could no longer think clearly. He found himself reaching for his gun. He found himself rising to his feet.

He found himself running straight towards the Tank.

Nick leapt to the side at the last second, firing his AK-47 in mid flight as the Tank slammed its arms into the spot on the floor where he had been. The soles of the conman's sleek dress shoes barely grazed the top of the checkout counter before he was airborne once more. He never stopped firing the gun as he landed amidst the destroyed shelves and aisles. The Tank turned to pursue Nick, who led the beast back into the store and away from the others now struggling fervently against the oppressive horde.

Rochelle fell to ground as an infected man twice her size slammed into her. Coach immediately blasted the creature off her and stood over the girl as she caught her breath. The zombies were enveloping them now, and from Rochelle's position on the ground, the bright day turned to dusk as their bodies blotted out the sun. Her eyes began to well up with tears upon hearing the furious, nearly inhuman bellows that ripped through the air more loudly than any other sound around her.

They were coming from Coach.

The girl gripped the man's muscular calf with her small hand and managed to lift herself off the ground. Coach focused on Rochelle's touch, ignoring the more painful sensations that the zombies were causing him. The sound of her voice, rising above the chaos, filled his heart nearly to bursting.

"We _are_ gonna make it through this! All of us!"

Seemingly in response to the girl's defiant confidence, the horde suddenly veered off as if gripped by the force of a powerful magnet, leaving the pair dumbfounded as they watched in disbelief.

"Are you ok?" Coach asked breathlessly.

Rochelle nodded her head quickly and the two of them made their way into the store after Nick.

The conman had his back to the wall, with absolutely nowhere left to go. This fucking monster simply wasn't going down, no matter how many times he shot it. The bizarre sensation that had gripped him was fading, and his head was pounding yet again.

_Where are you?_

His finger still held the trigger down. If he was going to die, he was determined to bring the Tank to hell with him. As the monster made its final lunge, an earth-shattering explosion caused a portion of the store to collapse. Both the conman and the Tank lost their balance and the lights flickered off, sending portions of the interior into blackness.

The Tank barreled across the room, its flailing arms destroying everything they came into contact with as it tumbled head over heels. Nick curled into a ball in the darkness, his every muscle tense as he braced himself for the probability of being crushed by the beast. He gritted his teeth as shards of glass rained down on him.

Everything became utterly silent, and Nick breathed in the heavy feeling of death that began to invade the very air around him. One of the enormous arms plopped lifelessly down onto Nick's side, and he immediately shoved it off and jumped to his feet. He became aware of footsteps crunching through the debris towards him.

"Nick?"

The conman never thought he would be glad to hear Coach's voice.

"Yeah, I'm here."

As the three made their way outside, they were greeted to the sight of a ravaged parking lot, overflowing with corpses. The vestiges of the explosion simmered and broiled as an oil tanker and various other vehicles lay strewn about- several of them partially melted by the heat.

"Where the fuck is Ellis?" Nick didn't even try to conceal his concern as he picked up the few remaining, undamaged bottles of cola.

"I saw him go back inside the gun store," Rochelle stated softly as they made their way back up the stairs.

"Little bastard," Nick huffed in annoyance, although he was immensely relieved.

"Don't be hard on him, he's injured."

Nick slammed on the door to Whitaker's safe haven as Coach and Rochelle made their way into the shop to retrieve Ellis.

"We have the cola, now give us some supplies!"

"I shouldn't give you shit! I already blew up your roadblock!"

"Yeah, I can see that, but that wasn't the full agreement, remember?" Nick began slathering the bottles with the blood and viscera on his jacket in annoyance. He even spat on the caps for good measure, "Now hurry up before I blast my way in there, shove these bottles up your ass, and take your stuff myself!"

A mail slot opened up at the bottom of the door, and Nick placed the remaining bottles inside.

"Three measly bottles…one from each a' yous' I suppose."

Nick's eyes narrowed at Whitaker's cryptic words, and when the slot opened again, revealing three med kits, three bottles of water, and three protein bars, the conman scowled.

"What gives? You're missing-"

Rochelle and Coach practically flew back up the stairs.

"Ellis is gone!"

"_What_?"

"He's not in the store!"

"Well then where the fuck is he?"

Nick tore across the parking lot, looking everywhere for young man. He hadn't seen him since the Tank attacked. He hadn't even seen him leave the store, so he had no idea where to look.

"Ellis! This isn't funny!"

Nick stopped yelling, and his heart skipped a beat when Coach and Rochelle ran past him, straight towards the wreckage caused by Whitaker's turret gun. Nick stood still as he watched them run, his mouth open slightly as he struggled to gather his thoughts- to catch his breath. As he brought one foot slowly in front of the other, a realization- that horrible feeling of death he had felt as he lay in the dark within the store- began to smother him once more. Although he wanted to run towards the wreckage, he could not will his body to move faster than its current, sluggish pace.

By the time he joined the other two, Rochelle was already on the ground bawling uncontrollably. Coach stood next to her, his head bowed; his eyes shut tightly. Nick tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he caught sight of a chainsaw, its serrated edge gleaming with a layer of crimson blood.

Nick clasped a hand over his mouth- his eyes, huge.

A few paces away lay a blue and white cap, smeared with Boomer bile.

Nick staggered over to it on stiff legs and as he reached to grab it, the heartless wind sent it tumbling away from him. Nick snarled and lunged at the hat, clutching it fiercely as he lay with it on the ground. He then began to crawl amongst the corpses, looking- searching.

_Where are you?_

* * *

No zombies intruded upon their silent wake.

Coach helped Rochelle onto her feet. The girl had stopped crying, her eyes unable to produce any more moisture. Nick sat on the ground with his legs crossed. His knuckles blazed even whiter than his pale face as he refused to ease his grip on the hat. He had stopped looking for Ellis. A large part of him didn't want to see the boy out of fear of what he might look like. As Nick's eyes drifted over the tangled piles of mutilated corpses- some of them blown apart, others partially vaporized- chances were he wouldn't be able to handle the sight.

Why was he feeling this way? Sure, the kid was nice…both to look at, and in his pleasant demeanor. But they had only just met.

Coach cleared his throat.

"I'm gonna lead us in prayer before we move on."

Nick winced.

_Move on? Without him?_

"Father God, we thank you for this day."

Nick snarled. Hearing those words nearly drove him over the edge, and it took every ounce of his willpower to keep from lunging at Coach and tearing his throat out.

"Please be with us, Lord. Bless us and protect us as we continue our daily struggles…"

_This can't really be it, can it?_

"…Please keep us safe from these…trials and tribulations."

_He can't really be gone…_

"Lord, we thank you for Ellis."

Again, Nick winced.

_What was the last thing I said to him?"_

Nick couldn't remember, but he was sure it wasn't something good.

"Although he was only with us for a short time, he filled our lives with joy. He made things a little more bearable. He sacrificed himself…for us…there…was a little bit of You….in..in him," Coach's voice began to crack and rose considerably in pitch as he struggled to maintain his composure. Rochelle buried her face in her hands.

Nick was dying.

"We know, without a doubt that his spirit has found peace. We know that he is with You now. We pray that some day we will see his smiling face again. Only You know when that day shall come. Thank you Lord. Amen."

Coach and Rochelle embraced one another. The girl then reached down and hugged Nick. The conman did not return the gesture. He just stared hollowly at the ground.

"Alright, come on Nick, we should move on now," Coach stated awkwardly.

Nick didn't respond.

"Nick."

"No."

"Nick!"

"I'm not setting foot inside that mall," Nick's voice was calm, monotone- eerie.

"Then just were are you gonna go?"

"Don't know. I'm gonna stay here for a while and then…just go off on my own."

"That's insanity, Nick! It's bullshit! We're all hurtin'. I know how you feel-"

Nick suddenly looked up at Coach, his eyes filled with a terrifying, inhuman light. It took the older man's breath away and he stepped back.

"Let's go, Ro."

"But-" Coach didn't allow Rochelle to respond. He took her arm and began walking down the empty mall parking lot after taking one last wary look at Nick.

The girl released herself from Coach's grip and the two exchanged words. She then walked slowly over to Nick and placed one of the med kits on the ground next to him. After hesitating for a moment, she then placed two water bottles and two protein bars next to it.

Nick looked up at her, his eyes now soft.

The girl then turned and rejoined Coach. Soon they had disappeared into the building.

An hour later, a helicopter rose up from behind the mall.

* * *

Nick hovered amidst the corpses like a wandering spirit, his suit gleaming silver under the light of the moon. After hours of sitting idly, he had decided to try and find the boy. Whether mutilated or unmarred, he just had to see that face one last time. But he was growing weary, and all of the incessant symptoms he had suffered throughout the day were becoming too much to handle. He drifted over to one of CEDA's ward tents and sat down on a bed that just hours ago would have repulsed him. It was filthy, but so was he, in so many ways. He really didn't care anymore. He carefully unwrapped Ellis's shirt from his leg. It too was filthy, covered in his own blood. It made him sick. He wretched, but nothing came up. He was empty inside. He placed the young man's cap beside him, rested his head on the pillow, and closed his heavy eyes. Then he saw something that he had been dreading. Once again, Ellis had materialized before him. Once again, his face was inches away. Why did he have to suffer this nightmare? Would Ellis haunt him every night? The warm breath flowed over his face. It felt so real.

So real.


	7. Chapter 7

It was too real- too damn real.

Nick couldn't take it any more. It had to stop. This horrible vision, this nightmare, would drive him over the brink of madness if it didn't. His body shuddered. The wraith's perfect lips were an inch away, and he couldn't have them- would never have them.

_Could I?_

A low moan filled with frustration, despair, and longing, clawed its way from deep within Nick's throat. He would make this nightmare end. He knew exactly how to break free from the shackles of this illusion- by meeting it head on.

_You liar._

Nick thrust his face forward and was greeted to the sensation of his lips colliding into a pair twice as full as his own. He nearly melted into them as waves of warmth flowed across every inch of his body. This nightmare was powerful, but Nick was determined to fight it, to overcome it, to shatter it.

_You're not real._

He slid his tongue between the phantom's lips and gasped. He could feel- _feel_- the other tongue, warmer than his own as he brushed against it. He could taste a bittersweet mixture of blood and the young man's essence. Nick broke away from the kiss and breathed deeply, taking in an aroma both foul and wonderful into his being.

_Are you real? Why can't you be real?_

At his first inhalation, the rancid odor of a hundred rotting corpses, full of death and futility, assaulted him. As he breathed in again, the musky pheromones of a hot-blooded twenty three year old brimming with vitality, life, and hope danced throughout his nostrils, settled in the back of his throat, and flooded his mind with endorphin fueled bliss.

Nick lost the will to fight- to overcome. He allowed himself to be overtaken and overwhelmed by this ghost.

This incubus.

Nick flailed his arms about blindly and they smacked against supple flesh. The ethereal entity was gaining more and more substance- more and more of a hold over him- as Nick broke down. If he couldn't fight it, then he would revel in it.

_You have to be real._

He gripped the shadowy shoulders, pulling them closer so forcefully that he could feel the entity's weight roll on top of him. He kneaded its muscles with his fingers. He clamped his lips around those of the phantasm and pressed their bodies together tightly.

_Little bastard…you're so stupid…why would you do something so stupid?_

The revenant complied by returning the pressure against his lips- against his pelvis- and Nick felt himself growing warmer and fuller down below. He swept his hands over the shoulders and down to its lower back, but before he preceded further down, his brow furrowed.

_Why did you do it? I don't understand …you told me…_

The skin didn't feel right. From the amount of time he had spent gazing at this sculpted back, he realized that it wasn't as soft and smooth as it should have been. The back of this otherworldly creature was peppered with cracked, peeling flesh and open, weeping lesions. In a panic, Nick pushed the thing off of him. He struggled to gaze upon it but suddenly realized that he couldn't see. It crushed him.

_You told me you would be here for me…_

He could feel Ellis. He could smell him, even taste him, but he couldn't see him- would never see him again.

_You liar!_

The dam that Nick had constructed throughout his thirty five years to seal away any hint of vulnerability was blasted open by a torrent of blazingly hot tears that saturated his pillow as they flowed forcefully from his closed eyes. No one was around to witness the sight. No one was around to hear the plaintive, mournful sounds that trembled from his throat- no one except this horrible demon lying next to him.

"Go away…" Nick nearly choked on the words.

"GO AWAAAAAY!" With a single thrust, Nick shoved the nightmare away from him. He felt it fade from his grasp, from his mind, into nothingness.

* * *

"Come on Coach! We're almost there!" Rochelle shouted as she ran up one of the mall's escalators. She nearly slipped on a slick layer of fresh blood that coated most of the steps. The girl was half way up when a group of infected began funneling down from the floor above her. She stood her ground and fired at the line of zombies until she felt Coach's back press against her own.

"Damn it, there's so many of 'em!" he shouted as he blasted away at the mob that raced up from the bottom of the escalator.

The pair had managed to make it just outside of the mall's atrium, where the evacuation was taking place. However, utter chaos reigned as the few uninfected people within the atrium scrambled for their lives while zombies tore them apart. Just outside of the atrium's doors, two helicopters waited for someone- anyone who managed to make it out alive.

Corpses began to clog the top of the elevator and slide down towards Rochelle. She struggled to keep from being crushed as more of the slain infected fell down towards her, and she stepped gingerly over their bodies as she continued to make her way up. Coach was still half way up the escalator when Rochelle stepped onto the second level.

A Boomer waddled over to the bottom of the escalator. There were too many infected on the escalator for Coach to aim at the Boomer with the scattered spray of his shotgun, so as the beast spewed its projectile vomit, the man turned his back to prevent from being blinded. The viscous substance splattered onto the back of his bald head and all down his neck and back. In response, a truly massive number of infected creatures began to flood out of every one of the stores on both floors.

Coach continued up the escalator until a Spitter halted his progress with a pool of acid. The man was forced down several steps, and he used his impressive bulk to shove at the horde to keep from stepping in the goo. This caused a domino effect as the zombies tumbled down the escalator, right onto the Boomer who combusted from the crushing weight. Coach reloaded as he waited for the acid to dissipate before the horde recovered and raced back up towards him.

Try as she might, Rochelle could not keep some of the zombies from brushing past her in their rabid pursuit of Coach as she reloaded her weapon and destroyed the Spitter. The girl continued to thin the avalanche of zombies on the second level, and when her bullets struck an infected CEDA worker, they shattered the glass container of bile he was carrying.

Although the modified bile stemmed the tide of zombies on her end from reaching Coach, it also attracted even more of the creatures from up above her. In their mindless frenzy, zombies began launching themselves onto the elevator from the third level. Most of them ricocheted off the structure or missed their mark completely, snapping their necks and limbs as they careened onto the floor below. Some of them successfully landed on the elevator and proceeded to attack the overwhelmed Coach.

One of them managed to swipe at one of his eyes. He howled in excruciating pain and collapsed onto the elevator's steps.

Before Rochelle could run to his aid, a Smoker snared her from its position on the third level and began reeling her upwards. She managed to keep one of her arms from being tied down by the tongue, but couldn't keep it from wrapping around her neck. As she dangled from such a great height, Rochelle panicked and tried to beat the Smoker with the butt of the gun in her free arm, but only succeeded in breaking the glass railing that the creature was leaning against. The Smoker lost its balance and tumbled over the side, but managed to grab the edge with its claws.

Both the monster and the girl dangled precariously over the empty space above the ground floor. The Smoker's instinct to kill prevented it from releasing Rochelle from its grasp and was ironically keeping her alive as the creature struggled to lift the both of them back up.

As Rochelle gripped the tongue to ease the pressure on her neck, she looked up in astonishment to see a pair of hands grab the Smoker's arm. Even more amazing was the fact that the Smoker reached out with its other hand to grip the forearm of its savior for dear life. The girl could hear the intense, strained grunts of the mysterious individual as he pulled both of them up.

"Are you two alright?" a sandy haired man asked both the girl and the monster.

There was a bizarre moment of awkwardness as all three of them stared at one another. The Smoker even seemed to shift uneasily as if unsure of what to do. Rochelle then promptly shot the Smoker in the skull, shouted a quick 'thank you' to the man and ran back down towards Coach. She blasted at a group of infected that flailed about within the rising vapors of the broken bile jar. Several of them broke free of their trance and charged towards her. The blonde man ran up besides her with a pistol and together they picked off the few remaining infected and made their way down the escalator.

Coach had managed to kill the last of the horde that mobbed him, but he had not risen to his feet and was clutching his face with his hands.

At barely five feet, two inches in height, Rochelle struggled to drag a man who was a foot taller and over twice her weight up the escalator.

"Come on big guy," she urged him, "Do you expect me to carry you?"

Coach's only response was to hiss through his teeth in pain as he continued to clutch his face.

"Allow me to help you, miss," the man who had saved her grabbed Coach and the two of them managed to drag him into a secure room with reinforced doors. In truth it was barely a small passageway that linked the main body of the mall with the atrium.

After they placed Coach onto the ground, Rochelle ran into the atrium just in time to see a pair of helicopters through the windows that lined the ceiling. They were taking off with no rescued passengers aboard either one.

The pilots had given up.

The girl looked down at the ground floor of the atrium with heavy eyes. She could see a sizable group of infected milling about. Some of them were consuming the bodies of the few people who, along with her, had come so devastatingly close to rescue.

Rochelle made her way back to the safe room, her self-pity thrown aside as she knelt beside Coach and pulled out a small bottle of sterile saline from one of Whitaker's health packs.

"Move your hand. I need to take a look in order to help you."

Coach relented and removed the hand covering his left eye. Rochelle bit her lip at the sight of Coach's injury. Three scratch marks streaked downwards diagonally from the middle of his forehead to the center of his cheek. One of the zombie's nails had passed directly over his eye and scratched across the globe of his cornea. The blood flowing from beneath his eyelid was a testament to it.

"Open your eye."

"I can't."

"God damn it, Coach!" the girl screamed and the bottle of saline trembled in her hands, then in a softer tone, "_Please_, open your eye."

Coach nearly passed out from the searing pain as he struggled to keep his eye open. Rochelle flushed out his eye with the saline, and observed the break in its surface.

"Can you see out of it?" she whispered.

"Yeah, but it's blurry."

Rochelle covered Coach's eyelid with a thick layer of gauze padding, and wrapped gauze bandages around his head to keep it in place.

"We're staying put for a while," Rochelle stated as she rumaged through the med kit. She pulled out and opened a small sachet containing two pain relievers and handed them to Coach along with their shared bottle of water and protein bar. Coach didn't argue with her. He took the pills, ate half of the bar, and rested his head on the hard floor. Rochelle then turned to the other man.

"Thank you so much for your help," she said warmly.

"Yes, thank you," Coach repeated wearily from his position on the ground, but he did not turn to face the other man.

"Not a problem," the stranger produced a small smile, but then sat down in a corner and sighed heavily as he bowed his head and ran his finger's through his hair.

"I'm Rochelle, and this is Coach. What's your name?"

"James."

Silence prevailed for a while as the sun sank lower in the horizon.

"So who do I remind you of?" Coach asked quietly. The initial shock of his injury was wearing off.

"I've changed my mind. You're better than he is…was," Rochelle scooted closer to Coach and placed her hand inside of his.

"Oh, yeah? Who?"

The girl didn't answer him. She merely kissed his forehead, which along with the pills; dulled Coach's pain enough for him to give in to his exhaustion and fall asleep.

Rochelle untied her hair, allowing her braids to fall freely, just above her shoulders. She took a moment to apply antibacterial cream to the numerous cuts on her arms and rubbed at her tender bruises before listlessly nibbling at what little remained of the protein bar.

"So what's your story, James?"

The man lifted his head suddenly. His blue eyes were slightly moist.

"You can call me Jimmy."

* * *

Nick opened his eyes. The bright moonlight that had flooded his surroundings just hours before was now completely obscured by an impenetrable wall of somber clouds. As a steady drizzle vibrated across the nylon ceiling, he moaned and stretched his stiff muscles. He then rolled onto his side and passed a hand slowly across the empty sheets beside him. Nick contemplated the foolishness of having fallen asleep alone and exposed in an unprotected tent during the dead of night. Before he could swing his feet over the side of the bed, a direful growl sent him springing over to the tent's entrance with gun in hand.

He poked his head out and his eyes widened at what he saw. On the ground, in the distance, crawling feebly into one of the other tents was a human- young, male, and uninfected.

_No fucking way. _

Nick flew across the parking lot, his heart wedged up in his throat. The young man's skin was tanned, his hair a mop of brown, disheveled, rain-soaked waves, and his legs- they were completely gone from the knees down.

_Ellis! Oh my God! Oh my fucking God!_

Before Nick could reach him, he heard the growl once more. It was much louder now, much closer. He stopped in his tracks to see a dark shape skulking towards the boy on all fours in the rainy gloom. Nick crouched and kept his gun's small flashlight off as he squinted into the darkness. The silhouette did not adhere at all to even the most vague interpretation of the human form. The creature kept its head low, distracted by the plethora of dead bodies. Nick watched as it lifted its head to swallow chunks of flesh and viscera.

He aimed his AK-47 and held his breath when it spotted the young man, attracted to his awkward, injured movements. All but one of the lights in the parking lot had gone out, and it was so murky that the conman could barely distinguish any details beyond a dark body fully covered in scraggly, matted hair, a pair of pointed ears that swiveled up from the sides of its skull, and the flash of teeth that lusted for the young man's throat.

Nick opened fire.

The creature emitted a horrible yowl and bounded behind the row of tents with alarming speed. Nick proceeded cautiously, yet swiftly towards Ellis, keeping his eyes and ears peeled at the spot where the quadruped beast had disappeared. His heart raced, and he felt light-headed and sick. The boy's legs were gone- _gone. _He caught a flurry of movement across the narrow stretch of pavement between the tents. The creature was successfully closing the distance between them while keeping itself hidden. Even more unnerved, Nick wiped the rain from his face and in the split second it took him to do so, monster circled around him so incredibly quickly that it managed to leap in front of his path and cut him off from Ellis.

In the moment before it lunged, Nick became horribly aware of the beast's identity. A thin, whip-like tail twitched rapidly as it crouched on slender yet muscular legs. Dull, black nails scraped against the pavement. Its sooty gray fur was caked with dried blood and grime, and it bristled upright along the back of its thick neck. A deep chest heaved with every panting breath. Small, dark eyes flashed like a pair of obsidian stones and thick, black nostrils flared at the end of a long muzzle. Its jaws opened to reveal yellowed teeth that dripped umber, pestilence-laden saliva onto the scraggly, beard-like fur of its chin. The monstrosity was nearly the size of a small pony, and magnitudes upon magnitudes more deadly. In an instant, it was on him.

Nick only managed to fire his gun once before it was knocked out of his arms. His hands pressed against the beast's collar as he clamped them around its neck in a desperate attempt to keep the jaws away from his own neck. A metal ID tag dangled an inch above his face, but Nick didn't bother to read the animal's name.

He pulled both of his legs up and kicked the beast in the chest. It yelped and staggered backwards long enough for Nick to roll onto his stomach and propel himself onto his feet. Before he could grab his gun, the frenzied wolfhound was on him once more.

He lifted his right arm to protect his face and the disgusting jaws clamped around it. Nick winced in pain as he fished around in his suit pocket. He pulled out one of the Habanos he had won back in the bar and shoved the cigar through the gap in the dog's jaws. This triggered the animal's gag reflex and it released itself from Nick's arm. The dog wretched as it bit into the bitter cigar and the conman dove for his gun. He shot the wolfhound in the neck, but the creature again managed to disappear behind one of the tents.

_What the fuck is this thing?_

The dog wasn't normal. Although its size and strength were typical of its breed, the otherworldly speed and ferocity that it demonstrated were the direct result of infection. Nick circled around the tents in pursuit of the injured animal. He had to destroy it quickly before he could tend to Ellis, who was doubtlessly bleeding profusely from his grievous injuries.

The dog led him in slalom formation around the tents, further and further away from boy. Nick growled in frustration as the animal managed to maintain a pace that kept it just out of reach. Every time he aimed his gun, the dog would vanish behind the fabric of a tent. Nick quickly backpedaled and swung around the perimeter of a tent in the opposite direction and managed to catch the dog off guard. The tail end of his stream of bullets struck the animal in the hindquarters as it turned and fled past him.

This time the creature released a deep, lupine howl from the pit of its throat, but otherwise completely ignored Nick as it doubled its pace and weaved back through the tents, drawn towards the helpless young man who was now crying out in pain.

"Fuck!" The conman had been conned by an animal. The dog had led him to the other end of the parking lot, and it would reach Ellis long before he could do anything to stop it. Nick wiped his furrowed brow in frustration and did the only thing he could do. He ran as quickly as his legs would allow, but fell face first as something tackled him from behind.

Flecks of asphalt lodged themselves under his skin as his forehead scraped against the pavement. He landed on his gun and it fired, blasting a hole through his jacket. Ignoring the possibility of having been shot, Nick kicked frantically and continued to scramble on his belly towards the dog, which was nearly on top of Ellis. Nick snapped his head around to see a rabid, old man in a boonie hat clinging to his legs.

Nick thrust the AK-47 into the creature's face, knocking it off him. Looped around the zombie's wrist, a long leather dog leash whipped about as the infected rolled backwards. Nick leapt to his feet and aimed straight at the apostrophe on the logo of the zombie's vomit encrusted work shirt.

"WITH YOUR OWN GODDAMN GUN, WHITAKER!"

In a fit of passionate rage, Nick emptied all that remained within his weapon into Whitaker's chest. The old man writhed and seized as wisps of smoke billowed from the craters in his torso. After shaking himself out of his frenzy, Nick sprinted towards Ellis with bile rising up in his mouth.

He came to a screeching halt and let the empty weapon slip from his grip as he gazed soullessly at the horrific sight.

_This can't…happen._

The ravenous beast, whose weight likely rivaled that of its victim, had the boy pinned beneath its massive form. The vice jaws had completely engulfed his tender neck. Glistening with blood and rainwater, a fireman's axe protruded from deep within monster's spine. A sanguineous moat advanced in all directions around the two forms.

Both of them were stone still.

_Not again._

Nick's legs lost the strength to support him, and he sank slowly to his knees. He crawled over to the lifeless pair, his hands fully submerged in thick, crimson fluid. Nick pried the stiffened jaws away from the boy's neck. His gaze lingered on the young man's glassy, brown eyes before traveling along the bump of his large, aquiline nose to end at his small, pencil thin lips.

Nick didn't know how to feel as he stared at the stranger's face. Should he have been relieved that this young man wasn't Ellis? Should he have been angry that he had wasted so much energy and suffered so many wounds trying to save someone he didn't even know?

The conman closed his eyes and let out a singular, dark laugh.

He didn't even know _Ellis._

Nick got up once more, deciding not to feel anything at all.

He removed his jacket and observed the bullet hole before slinging it over his shoulder. He rolled up the sleeve of his blue button up and held his arm out to let the rain wash over his bite wound. As he shuffled wearily into the tent where he had been sleeping, he stumbled over a warm body lying at the foot of the bed.

"Ow! God damn it, Nick...bad enough you pushed me out the bed..."


	8. Chapter 8

"Tell me everything!" Nick screamed at the mechanic after he had hoisted him onto the bed and pulled out the med kit Rochelle had left him with. He began tending to Ellis's wounds as the young man tried to recant the events that had left him lying in a heap at the foot of the bed.

"Well, I was able ta' convince Whitaker ta' shoot his gun 'afore we gave 'im the cola…but I had ta' get all the zombies away from you guys somehow and- OOOW! HOLY SHIT WHAT ARE YA' DOIN'?"

Nick began wiping alcohol all over Ellis's skin- which was almost as irritated as he was.

"So you intentionally covered yourself in puke and ran right into the path of Whitaker's gun? I figured as much! I can't fucking believe you!"

The boy's face and chest were a bright pink from the heat of the explosion, and his back was covered in tender, peeling lesions. Portions of his overalls had holes burned into them, and his right ankle was swollen. His entire body was covered in dried blood and grime.

"I care about you…that so hard ta' believe? Hey, where's Coach and Rochelle?"

"Gone. They flew away in a helicopter, so I guess they're safe."

Ellis's mouth parted as he stared into Nick's eyes, noting the dark circles lining them, and the pallid, ashen skin on a face both weary and emotionally drained. The man looked like a corpse.

"You…you didn't go with them. You stayed behind…" The boy's voice was a small whisper. As he contemplated Nick's actions, his gaze dropped to the ground.

"Like I said all along, I didn't want to go into the mall," Nick stated defensively, "So then what happened? I looked everywhere for you. Where the fuck did you go?"

"I…I didn't know where I was as first. Didn't know which way was up or down…I was pretty shell-shocked, I guess. I was buried underneath lots a' bodies, and when I finally realized it, I panicked. It was dark out when I crawled inta' that tent over there," Ellis pointed to the tent directly across from the one they were in, " I was scared, so I crawled under one a' the beds and then I guess I fell asleep for a while." Ellis's face lit up, "Then I saw _you_ sleepin' in this bed."

Nick knew the rest of the story, and nervously contemplated how much the mechanic had been aware of after he made his way over and crawled into the bed with him.

"God, Nick. I'm so damn tired…" Ellis leaned back onto the bed and immediately began to nod off, but Nick yanked him once more into a seated position.

"No, this is no place for you to be sleeping, alright?" Nick quickly gathered his belongings, placed the hat on the boy's head, scooped him up, and ran begrudgingly towards the mall's entrance. He was desperate to have a solid, steel door between them and whatever the hell else was lurking in the darkness.

"We was sleepin' jus' fine 'afore…until you pushed me out the bed, that is," Ellis stated groggily.

Nick gritted his teeth.

Once inside, he placed Ellis on the ground and bolted the door shut. He then peered through the bars of the other door, noticing dark shapes shambling about within the mall's interior. He sat down next to Ellis and handed him one of the water bottles along with a small sachet of pain pills. He then examined the other water bottle that Rochelle had left him with, contemplating the apparent faith that the woman had in Ellis's will to survive.

"You should really save some of that water for- well, never mind then."

He watched Ellis chug the entire bottle and toss it to the side.

Nick then began peeling off the boy's boot and sock to inspect his swollen ankle.

"Please be careful…" Ellis murmured, "It's sore."

Nick placed the mechanic's bare foot in his lap and started applying slight pressure to his ankle.

"Ah! Nick, come on, man. I normally like foot massages, but damn."

"Keep quiet. You probably just sprained it. I'm going to rotate your ankle around to keep it loose."

"_What_? No don't, please! Ah!"

"Relax. Stop being so dramatic, Ellis. I'm being gentle," Nick smirked, "I'm a licensed physical therapist."

"Yeah, and I'm a licensed mental health couns'lor! You ain't foolin' me."

Nick scoffed and continued to gently roll the boy's ankle. The small grunts and whines that occasionally betrayed Ellis's attempt to remain stoic caused a crooked smile to form on the conman's lips.

"Well I'm glad- Ah!- one a' us is enjoyin' this!" Ellis huffed.

Nick stifled a laugh and Ellis crossed his arms, furrowed his brow, and stuck out his bottom lip. The pink, irritated skin on his face flushed brighter with anger.

"It's not funny."

"Of course it is. You're a whiny, little bitch and you look like a fucking lobster."

"You're an asshole, Nick!" Ellis forcefully kicked the conman in the chest with his other foot. Nick responded by squeezing the boy's ankle.

"Fuck!" Ellis held his hands over his face and sank down onto his back from the sudden pain.

"Ellis."

"WHAT?"

"I'm so fucking glad you're alive." Nick's voice was low and quiet.

Ellis's anger was dulled as he marveled at the brightness in Nick's eyes. The man no longer looked like a corpse. The boy was suddenly invigorated and he produced a grin so wide, Nick was sure it could be seen from space.

"Come on Nick! Let's fuck up some zombies an' crash this mall like we own the place!"

Again, Nick gave the mechanic's ankle a squeeze, and the boy winced.

"You need to rest, so calm the fuck down. Weren't you tired just two minutes ago?"

"Yeah, but you musta' worked your therapist magic," Ellis winked, "I feel tons better already."

Nick attempted to rub his eyes but hesitated when he remembered he had been handling Ellis's foot.

"Christ, Ellis. Your feet smell like shit! Your _everything_ smells like shit!"

"Ha-ha! Yeah, I'm pretty rank, huh? I mean, daaaamn do I need a shower!"

"The hell you do, now come here and let me finish scrubbing you down."

Ellis's eyes widened when Nick reached for the rubbing alcohol again.

"No, no, no!"

"Ellis…"

The boy sighed and scooted around to expose his back to Nick and braced himself for the wicked sting, but only felt a cool, refreshing flow and the gentle rub of wet gauze padding over his wounds. Ellis turned his head to see Nick using his drinking water to wash his back.

"Nick, you don't have ta'-"

"Quiet. I simply can't associate with someone who smells as horribly as you do." The conman moved on to scrub Ellis's arms, chest, stomach, neck, and face. Although it only made his skin redder, and caused Nick to deplete more than half of his water, Ellis relented and calmly allowed the conman to scrub him down. He closed his eyes as Nick's hands, slick with antibacterial cream, smoothed across his tense, sore muscles. He didn't even protest when Nick commanded him to remove his overalls.

"Well I'll be damned," Nick stated quietly.

"Ya see? No chicken legs here!"

When he had finished tending to Ellis's wounds, Nick took a swig of water while the mechanic devoured his protein bar. Ellis attempted to put his bloodied t-shirt back on but Nick stopped him.

"But, you don't need it anymore, an' it's my favorite shirt."

"It's disgusting, Overalls. You can't put that filthy thing back on when you have open wounds all over your back."

"Well, shouldn't ya' wrap me up in bandages or somethin' then?"

"I should wrap your mouth shut, is what I should do," Nick retorted as he carefully placed the excess supplies back in the med kit, "but actually, tight bandages would keep the puss from draining. I think your skin would benefit from some airflow."

"Ok, so I guess you're a doctor now, too."

"Dr. Nick."

Ellis smiled, neatly folded his overalls and placed them, along with his shirt, in a corner.

"So tell me about yourself, Mr. Badass."

"Go to sleep, Ellis."

"Aw, come on."

"Listen, kid. You might not be tired anymore, but I sure as hell am. This was the worst fucking day of my life." Nick walked over to the opposite corner and curled up on the ground.

"Hey, Nick."

"Yeah."

When Ellis remained quiet, Nick rolled over to see the boy staring at him from across the room.

"Well, what is it?"

Ellis tentatively crawled over and attempted to lie down next to him.

"Stop right there."

Ellis gulped and started to back up but stopped when Nick began removing his jacket. The conman removed his cigars, his deck of cards, and what remained of his money from the pockets and spread the jacket on the ground. He then began unbuttoning his blue shirt.

"Damn, Nick, I take back what I said about them steroids not workin'."

Nick extended the blue shirt to Ellis.

"Here, can't have you putting your bare back on this filthy floor."

"Are you serious?" Ellis handled the shirt as though it were made of fine porcelain, "I'll be gentle with it. I promise."

Nick shrugged.

"My jacket's already ruined, and I'm sure this shirt'll get filthy eventually. You gave me the shirt off your back, now we're even. You can lie next to me if you want, but I better not _feel_ you, understand?" The conman lowered himself onto his jacket and shifted a bit before becoming still.

The young man donned the shirt and settled down so that he was a millimeter away from Nick and watched the man's broad chest rise and fall.

"Hey, Nick?" Ellis whispered.

The older man had already drifted off into sleep.

"You stayed behind, Nick…you…waited for me."

A soft snore escaped from Nick's throat.

"Thank you so much." Ellis fell asleep with a smile on his face as he relived everything that had transpired between them within the CEDA tent.

* * *

Rochelle rubbed her eyes at the muted light filtering through the bars of the door from the atrium's windows. Although it was morning, it was still rather dark due to the rain that had not stopped since last evening. As she tied her hair back up, she noticed Jimmy shift uncomfortably in the spot in the corner from which he had not moved throughout the entire night.

"Rough night, Jimmy?"

The man nodded, "Couldn't sleep. I spent the whole night thinkin'…Lost someone very dear to me."

"Sorry to hear that," Rochelle smoothed her hands across her hair, "So what were you doing here? Why weren't you in the atrium?"

"Well that's where I was all yesterday mornin'," Jimmy shook his head at the irony, "I arrived at the mall very early yesterday. I was so excited to meet my fans."

Rochelle gave him a puzzled look.

"Oh, I'm a stock car racer- very well known 'round these parts. Well, anyway, when the first group a' people came rushin' towards me and security had ta' handle 'em, I though nothin' of it," Jimmy rubbed his forehead, "I was used to rabid fans, but I guess they was _literally_ rabid fans cuz they tore my security team to ribbons. Daniel…he and I, hid in my makeshift dressin' room until more a' them monsters busted the door in. They chased us outta' the atrium and then…and then Daniel started to act strange."

Tears began streaming down Jimmy's face.

I told 'im he needed to rest, but he wasn't havin' any of it. He wanted us to keep movin'…I watched helpless as he got sicker 'n sicker. Next thing I knew, there were monsters everywhere an' he-"

It became increasingly difficult for Rochelle to understand Jimmy as he heaved and gasped amidst his heavy sobbing.

"It happened so fast…just like that he was gone…and I didn't even stop to…I didn't even stop his killer…"

Jimmy looked at Rochelle, his sapphire eyes ablaze.

The girl produced a small smile and patted his shoulder.

I lost someone just yesterday, myself. I guess I shouldn't have forced him to come along…"

* * *

"Damn it, Ellis. Slow down."

"I'm tellin' ya' Nick, you're a miracle worker! My leg feels pretty good."

The two men were proceeding swiftly through the mall after several hours of rest. Nick had replenished the ammo of his AK-47 and Ellis had retrieved his sniper rifle from the parking lot. Although the mechanic was trying to brush off the pain in his ankle, he made no attempt to disguise his limp. He hopped up the escalator and hobbled along quickly, hoping to find his hero's stock car deeper within the mall. The prospect was driving him wild with bubbling energy and excitement.

"Who the hell is this guy, anyway?" Nick asked as he observed the enormous posters of a sandy-haired man with a moustache standing confidently in a blue and white jumpsuit.

"That's Jimmy Gibbs Jr.! He's a legend, man!"

"What is he wearing? Is he a fucking astronaut or something?"

"Um, that's his _racin' suit_, duh! Come on, Nick, use your brains. I thought you was smarter 'n that."

"Pfft. Ellis, do me a favor and stop talking. Really. Just stop."

"His car's in here somewhere. I was on my way ta' get my picture taken with 'im and the car, damn it! If we can find it, we can drive away from this mess. Just you an' me."

"And where exactly would we go?"

"I don't know. You tell me, man."

The conman thought about the map he had seen back in the hotel and wondered if they could possibly make it to New Orleans on their own.

The further they progressed through the mall, the more posters they came across.

"This guy's face is plastered everywhere," Nick stated, clearly annoyed.

"He's a pretty striking guy though, ain't he? I mean just look at 'im. With his hair all nice, and that moustache…"

"He looks like a tool, Ellis. A giant tool."

The boy huffed and crossed his arms.

"I didn't figure you ta' be the jealous type, Nick. It's pretty sad, actually. Pretty pathetic."

"Ha! You think I'm jealous of _this_ guy?"

"Yeah, cuz he's famous an' everyone loves 'im."

"Now you're just spewing bullshit, Ellis. I'm not even going to acknowledge that with a response."

"I was thinkin' 'bout growin' a moustache a' my own. Just like his," Ellis stated dreamily, clearly getting a kick out of egging Nick on.

"First of all, I would be shocked if a snot-nosed brat like you were even capable of producing that much facial hair. And if you somehow managed to, and you walked past me on the street, I would smack you. I would smack the ridiculous thing right off your face!"

"You're a funny guy, Nick! Wanna have some fun?"

A shudder suddenly caused Nick's shoulders to spasm and he looked about nervously with a sense of uneasiness brewing in the pit of his stomach. Seeing nothing threatening, he turned back to Ellis.

"What, being in a mall full of brain-sucking psychopaths isn't enough of a good time for you?" Nick stopped walking and ventured cautiously, "What kind of fun are we talking about, here?"

"Let's see who can blast the heads off a' the most zombies! We get ten shots each."

"What a fool you are."

"Come on! It'll be great, I promise."

"Fine. If it'll shut you up, even for a second, then it's worth it."

When the pair spotted a group of zombies milling about at the other end of the long stretch of the current floor, Ellis took aim with his rifle.

"I'll go first." He stuck his tongue out as he knelt on his good leg and peered intently through the rifle's scope lens. Nick's expensive dress shirt, which was too large on the boy, clashed blaringly with his worn overalls, and the mechanic had tucked the shirt in to minimize the chances of it getting soiled.

"You look absolutely ridiculous," Nick chuckled.

"Quiet, you! I'm tryin' a' concentrate." Ellis began firing and counted off the bursting heads.

"One. Two…Three. Four. Five…Six. Seven. Aw, shit! Eight. Nine."

"That's it Overalls, ten shots."

"Nine outa' ten, Nick. See if you can do better n' that!" The mechanic beamed.

"Well, I'm glad you're so proud of yourself," Nick crossed his arms, "You have a fucking sniper rifle with fucking laser sights and you still managed to miss a zombie."

Ellis narrowed his eyes and shoved the rifle into Nick's hands.

"Let's see what you got!"

Unlike Ellis, Nick stood tall and fired much more rapidly.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, AAH!"

At the moment that Nick fired his final shot, Ellis snuck up behind him and poked him just below his last rib- a spot where Nick happened to be extremely ticklish. The conman flinched involuntarily and missed his mark completely.

"Ha ha ha ha haaaaaaa! We'll call that one a tie, Nick!"

The conman rushed at the mechanic and tackled him to the ground.

"Uncle! Uncle!" Ellis yelled, but Nick ignored him and began tickling him savagely.

"Oh God! Nick, please! I can't breathe!" Ellis appeared to be suffering from a fit of epilepsy as he writhed about on the floor. Tears streamed down his face from the force of his laughter.

"You're gonna wish you were dead by the time I'm through with you!" Nick hissed, but stopped the torture when the remaining zombies started rushing towards them.

Nick jumped to his feet and began handling them with ease until a Boomer lumbered across his field of view and managed to inexplicably, yet perfectly, conceal its enormous berth behind a support column. The conman strafed to the right as he aimed for the Boomer, but a Hunter's piercing scream distracted him and he backed away towards Ellis.

The boy had risen slowly and retrieved his rifle.

"All right, Nick! If they want ta' try an' work as a team, then let's show 'em how it's done right!"

The Hunter began leaping about wildly, launching itself off the walls.

"It's trying to distract us!" Nick shouted as he remembered the incident back in the streets. His eyes darted back towards the Boomer, who remained patiently tucked behind the column.

"You really think they're smart enough ta' do that?" Ellis shouted as he fired at the Hunter. The creature leapt straight into the air and attached itself to the ceiling, an action so unexpected that both men couldn't help but lift their eyes to meet it. As they both took aim, a Smoker snared Nick and dragged him along a path that ran right past the waiting Boomer.

"Damn, I guess they are!" Ellis exclaimed.

The boy blew a hole through the Hunter's skull, realizing that the creature was waiting for him to aim at the Smoker. He then quickly shot the Smoker's face. As Nick struggled to pry the tongue off of himself, the Boomer took aim.

"Look out Nick, if I shoot 'im from here he'll pop on ya!"

Nick whipped the Smoker's tongue at the Boomer, knocking the creature's head back. The tiniest spray of bile still managed to escape from its mouth and landed on Nick's face. As the Boomer stumbled backwards, Ellis safely destroyed it.

A nearby zombie was attracted to the small amount of bile and charged recklessly towards Nick who beat it to death with his gun. The conman growled in exasperation and unzipped his med kit. He pulled out his mostly empty water bottle and poured the rest into his eyes to rid himself of the irritating bile as Ellis limped over to him.

"See Nick, the two a' us are damn near unstoppable! That was so awesome the way you used the tongue ta'-"

Nick grabbed Ellis by the shirt and pulled him close.

"Stop talking." Nick's voice was unnervingly calm at first as he glared at Ellis, but with his eyes quickly becoming pink and inflamed from the bile's acidic pH, his tone became more irritated and intense, "No more of your fucking games, Overalls! I try to humor you and this is what comes of it! You don't take anything seriously, and that's the problem! We got lucky, ok! Nothing more!"

"I just wanted us ta' have some-"

"Fun! Yeah! An eye infection is a lot of fun, Ellis! A lot of fucking fun!" The skin around Nick's eyes was turning pink and started to swell slightly. The white's of his eyes were now bright red and contrasted alarmingly with his green irises.

"Fuck!" Nick closed his irritated eyes and tears streamed down his face.

"Gosh, Nick," Ellis murmured as he pulled the brim of his hat down, "I'm real sorry. Is there anythin' I can do ta' help?"

"Yeah, just close your mouth and keep it closed. Now let's go find the damn car."

* * *

Rochelle nudged Coach gently to rouse him from his rather deep slumber.

"Hey, big guy."

"Hey," Coach produced a broad smile as he rolled onto his back and stretched.

"Jimmy and I have a plan to get us out of here. It involves gassing up his car."

"Mr. Jimmy Gibbs?" Coach shouted in disbelief as he finally got a good look at the other man, "Sounds like as good a plan as any."

The trio proceeded cautiously with Coach in the center, Jimmy to his right, and Rochelle covering his blind side on the left.

"There's some fuel containers in a storage room on the other side of this level," Jimmy explained.

Due to the construction taking place within the atrium's upper level, in order to reach the fuel, the three needed to take the elevator to the bottom floor and climb the spiral staircases back up to the storage room.

The three reached the elevator, and before entering, Jimmy picked off several of the infected shambling about below them. What the man lacked in firepower with his single pistol, he made up for with the accuracy of his shots, and the relatively lower firing volume of the weapon. He managed to take several of them down without riling up a horde. They entered the elevator and as it took them slowly to the ground floor, Coach and Rochelle exchanged solemn glances of nervous encouragement while Jimmy seemed lost in his own thoughts- contemplating- as his gaze alternated between the bleu de France stock car and the gleaming barrel of his pistol.

As soon as the doors slid open, the three of them wasted no time making their way swiftly towards the farthest spiral staircase, side by side as they fired at the infected in their path.

"Mr. Gibbs, maybe you should get yourself a better weapon," Coach suggested as they reached the staircase. There were various rifles and shotguns lying about amidst the piles of dead bodies.

"Big gun's are nice, but this pistol is just too damn stylish," Jimmy dismissed him, "We're almost there. Say, perhaps you should protect the car while the girl and I get the gas. We could even toss the gas cans down to ya' to save time. Here, take my keys."

Jimmy tossed the keys to Coach, who caught them, but hesitated.

"I think we should stick together, Mr. Gibbs."

"I agree," Rochelle added.

"Oh, fine then," Jimmy relented, a bit put off.

When they reached the top of the staircase, a flood of infected swarmed them on the top floor. The stopping power of Coach's shotgun and the piercing power of Rochelle's AK-47 prevented most of the zombies from reaching them. Jimmy struggled a bit with his pistol, but he managed to hold his own and shove several of the creatures to their deaths on the bottom floor. The trio reached the storage room and Jimmy kicked his way inside. Coach and Rochelle covered the door as the racecar driver rushed into the room and emerged with two gas cans in his arms.

"Toss these down to the car," he commanded and handed both cans to Coach. He then grabbed two more and handed them to Rochelle. Finally, he emerged with two cans of his own and the three of them made their way back down towards the car.

* * *

"Oh shit, Nick! I can't move no faster!"

"Damn, it!" The conman slung Ellis over his shoulder and ran as quickly as he could up an escalator, "It's a good thing you're a pipsqueak! Just keep shooting!"

Ellis aimed as best he could as he bobbed up and down in time with the rhythm of Nick's swift ascent, but it was hard to miss the impossibly immense form of the Tank galloping so closely behind them.

"And here I thought that thing back at the gun store was a one of a kind freak," Nick mumbled breathlessly as he reached the top.

Ellis swung his weight forward to duck his head as the Tank took a swipe at him. Nick groaned and did his best to ignore his burning eyes and to counterbalance Ellis's movements as he gripped the young man's thigh and waist tightly. The conman staggered but managed to keep his feet underneath him as he quickened his pace and headed towards a reinforced door ahead of him.

"Ellis!" he gasped, "there's a safe room ahead! Get ready to hit the dirt, kid!"

The boy braced himself as Nick released his hold on him. Ellis rolled across the hard tiles, carried by the momentum of Nick's frantic sprint. His back hit the wall of the safe room as Nick slammed into the door. With the Tank nearly on top of them, Nick opened the door, grabbed Ellis, and threw the boy inside. As Nick closed the reinforced door, the Tank collided into it, straining the hinges and knocking the man backwards from the force of the impact.

"The door's not gonna hold!" Nick screamed as he clamored onto his feet. Ellis crawled across the floor as Nick unbolted the exit door. Dust rained down from the ceiling and the entire room vibrated from the Tank's repeated assault on the door, its metal surface warping and buckling from the feverish impacts.

"On my back!" Nick commanded as he crouched down in front of Ellis. The boy wrapped his arms and legs around Nick tightly as the conman sprung forward and slammed the door shut as he entered the atrium. Ellis observed the chaos below him as Nick ran over to the elevator. The conman pushed the button and the elevator slowly rose up from the ground floor to meet them. The Tank was now in the safe room attempting to burst through the exit door.

"Come on, damn it! Come on!" Nick gritted his teeth and placed Ellis back on the ground as they waited for the excruciatingly slow elevator.

"Oh, hell!" Ellis shouted as the safe room door relented to the overwhelming pressure. Finally the elevator opened up and the two men clamored inside. Nick slammed on the console and they both fired at the Tank until the doors closed, but as the elevator began its descent, it jolted to a stop.

"Fuck!" Nick shouted as they braced themselves on either side of the elevator doors. Flimsy by comparison to the those of the safe room, the doors provided so little resistance that when the Tank annihilated them, the monster careened through the tiny space and flew straight through the glass wall and onto the floor below.

Jimmy let out an excited whoop as he filled the car's tank to the brim and Coach put the key in the ignition.

"There, that oughta'- OH SHIT!" Jimmy leapt out of the way as the Tank nearly landed on top of him.

"You've got to be kidding me! Another one?" Rochelle yelled. She and Coach immediately opened fire as the Tank collected itself and rose from the floor.

"What the fuck? Seriously, what the fuck?" Jimmy screamed in a pitch almost a high as Rochelle's, "Whatever you do, God damn it, just keep it away from my car!"

Attracted to his screams, the Tank charged Jimmy, and the racer backpedaled up the staircase, firing his pistol all the while. Rochelle sprinted after the Tank, firing all of her shots at the back of the monster's skull. The Tank stopped halfway up the stairs and abandoned its pursuit of Jimmy and it swung its body around to swipe at Rochelle. The girl led the creature back down the stairs and around a convenience stand. Coach blasted away at its backside the entire time.

"My suit's ruined!"

For a second, Rochelle thought it was Nick shouting as she looked up, but saw Jimmy instead, covered in Boomer bile. She and Coach ran up the stairs with the Tank and a newly formed horde in hot pursuit. As she reached the top, Rochelle immediately turned to the right to support Jimmy who had destroyed the Boomer and knocked a Spitter down to the bottom floor before it could douse him with goo.

Jimmy retreated back into the storage room and emerged with one final can of gas as Rochelle joined him.

"You said we already had enough gas in the tank! Put that thing down and get ready because those zombies want your slime covered ass!"

"Well they ain't gonna get it!" Jimmy shouted defiantly.

Rochelle watched in horror as Coach turned to the left upon reaching the top of the staircase, leading the Tank away from them.

"God damn, Nick! Tell me your drawers are still dry after that one!" Ellis shouted, the near death experience causing him to overflow with nervous excitement. Both men watched as the Tank climbed the spiral staircase in pursuit of three, small figures- one of them wearing a bright pink shirt. A group of zombies were following in the monster's wake.

"Coach and Rochelle!" Ellis screamed, "You said they flew away ta' safety!"

"Well, I thought they did," Nick replied, half to himself as he looked down at the racecar, taking in the sight of several gas containers strewn about beside it. He tried the button again, but the elevator refused to budge, "Were gonna have to jump down, Ellis.

"Oh God…" the boy groaned as he cupped his head in his hands. He then shook himself, "Alright, the others are in trouble. Let's do it."

Nick sat on the ledge and let his feet dangle over the side. He then scooted himself off while gripping the edge as best he could with his fingers. He stretched himself out as much as possible. The length of Nick's body combined with the span of his arms decreased the height of the drop considerably and he was able to land safely on the floor. He immediately unstrapped his gun and fired at a rush of infected.

Ellis sat on the ledge and provided cover fire until the small horde was destroyed. He then slung his rifle onto his back and prepared to drop down. His breathing became increasingly labored the longer he hesitated.

"Come on Ellis!"

The ground seemed to warp and spin below him as the boy though about landing messily on his sprained ankle. If he dropped down the way Nick did, he wouldn't see the ground coming. His hands were drenched in sweat, so he doubted he could grip the ledge long enough to steady himself.

"Hurry up, Overalls!"

Ellis began to panic and he closed his eyes and lifted his head as he gasped for air. He thought he was stronger than this. He thought he could overcome this crippling fear. But even now, with his friends in trouble, Ellis was frozen.

"You're the bravest kid I know, Ellis!"

The boy's eyes snapped open at the sound.

"You made your way through a burning building, tackled a Hunter to the ground, and led a horde right into a fucking explosion, but you're gonna let a little jump stop you?"

"This is different, Nick!" the boy shouted through chattering teeth.

"Damn it, Ellis! I'll…I'll catch you, alright? Just jump!"

Ellis's eyes widened and he bit his lip as Nick extended his arms.

"You trust me, don't you?"

A lump the size of a baseball formed in Ellis's throat.

"I trust you, Nick."

The boy wiped his sweaty palms on his overalls and dangled over the side, his arms shaking as he hung from his fingertips, but before Ellis let go, a Spitter drenched the ground beneath Nick's feet in acidic goo.

Nick screamed in agony as the acid permeated the soles of his shoes and began assaulting his feet, but he fought the commands of his mind and body and did not move from the spot.

"LET GO, ELLIS! JUST LET GO!"

_You stayed behind, Nick…you…waited for me._

Even now, as he wallowed in a lake of liquid fire-

Nick waited.

Ellis let go. The momentary terror that enveloped him as he fell through the empty void was replaced by the sensation of Nick's strong arms cradling him tightly. The conman sloshed through the corrosive liquid and made his way over to the racecar. He threw Ellis into the passenger seat and kicked off his tattered shoes before running over to the driver's seat.

He caught a flurry of movement on the second floor and looked up to see Coach, who was staring right back down at him. The older man waved his arms frantically but Nick ignored him and entered the vehicle. To his relief, a set of keys dangled from the ignition.

"Nick, what are you doin'? What about Coach and Ro?"

"Fuck them, Ellis! We're getting the hell out of here! Just you and me, remember!"

The boy stared, horrified, at the conman.

"That was 'afore I knew they were still here! You can't be serious, Nick!"

But Nick had already started the car. They were already moving.

Ellis scrambled for the door handle, but Nick gripped him fiercely by the arm.

"Let me go, Nick! I've gotta help them!" the boy screamed as the car burst through the mall's glass doors.

"You're not going anywhere!" Nick's visage became monstrous as his face contorted into a wrathful snarl. Drops of blood leeched from the corners of his eyes and his nails pierced Ellis's skin from the force of his grip.

* * *

Jimmy launched the gas can at the top of the staircase and shot it with his pistol. The resulting spark set the liquid ablaze as it spread out, catching the Tank and engulfing the entire horde as they rushed into it in pursuit of him.

With the Tank now on fire, it moved with more fury as it closed the distance between itself and Coach.

Jimmy hesitated for a moment and looked at Rochelle. The pistol trembled in his hand. He then sighed and wiped his forehead before charging straight into the fire, his Kevlar suit rendering him impervious to the flames. He rushed down the stairs in time to see his car drive away.

"Why, God? Why?" he shouted as he tugged savagely at his hair. He let out a frustrated roar and ran back up the stairs in a fit of rage.

Coach watched the car drive away in disbelief as he delivered the finishing blow to the Tank. Nick had seen him, he was damn sure of that, but the conman had driven away regardless. He rushed over to the stairs, but they and a large portion of the floor were still engulfed in flames. He couldn't see a thing beyond the dazzling inferno and the dark, billowing smoke.

Rochelle's first instinct was to shoot through the windows on the ceiling to allow the rain to extinguish the flames, but remembered that water would only make a gas fire worse. She waited impatiently for the fire to burn itself out, but squinted as she saw a figure emerge from the flames.

"As ridiculous as it looks, Jimmy, I wish I had one of those suits," the girl joked.

The racer smiled, tore Rochelle's gun from her hands, tossed it down to the ground floor, and aimed his pistol at her face.

"What the hell?" Rochelle gasped as she stood frozen and wide eyed.

"This is for Daniel," Jimmy whispered.


	9. Chapter 9

"What in the hell are you talking about?" Rochelle trembled as she lifted her arms in a futile attempt to protect herself. She began to back away slowly in the direction of the storage closet.

"My son! You killed Daniel!"

The icy hue of Jimmy's feverish eyes contrasted vividly with the dancing flames behind him. An enormous vein split down the middle of his forehead and began to throb in tune with his racing heartbeat. Like vines and branches, more veins began spreading across the surface of his face, pressing against his skin as they bulged. The overwhelming medley of mixed emotions seemed to endlessly contort his face as he stalked closer.

Rochelle's mind raced. The man must have gone insane to accuse her of such a crime. When they had met, he had saved her from the clutches of a-

"The_ Smoker!_" She gasped.

"Only eighteen years old...he hadn't even begun his life yet!" Jimmy let out a cry, so horrific and heart-wrenching that Rochelle could not keep her own eyes from misting over. The tremors of Jimmy's body caused his pistol to shake violently in his hand, " He didn't deserve to die! He couldn't help it!"

"Jimmy, calm down," Rochelle managed breathlessly, trying desperately to heed her own advice, "Just put the gun away."

"No!" The man pressed the barrel against her forehead, "It's your life for his!"

The fire was finally burning itself out, and the girl could see Coach preparing to make his way over to them. He could not risk firing his shotgun for fear that the spread would strike Rochelle.

"Jimmy, I didn't know," Rochelle struggled to keep her voice steady. Try as she might, she could not help but feel guilty, "Were you planning on doing this all along?"

"I..." Jimmy's breathing became extremely labored.

"If you were, then why didn't you do it when you first had the chance? You were up all night in the safe room while Coach and I slept. You could have killed me then."

Jimmy seemed to withdraw into himself.

"With Daniel gone...I was helpless. I needed your help to gas up my car. Sure, I thought about killin' you as soon as you killed him...can you honestly blame me? What if it had happened to you? It was so easy for you to tear him away from me! Like he was nothin' at all!"

"But he was a-" Rochelle stopped herself, but it was too late.

"He was _what_? A _monster_?" Sweat and tears flowed from Jimmy's brow and eyes. He emitted a growl, grabbed Rochelle, and shoved her against the wall of the storage closet, "I didn't kill you sooner because I _couldn't_! I'm not a bad person! The only monsters here are you, your friend, and that mother fucker in the suit that stole my car!"

"_What_?_"_

"I was gonna spare your life and drive out of here, but now I can't even do that! I ain't got nothin' left! My fans, the car, my _son_- ALL GONE!"

The pistol dropped from Jimmy's grip and he clasped his hands against his head as blood streamed from both of his ears. The overwhelming anger and distress had taxed his body so much that it finally gave in to the Virus's assault on his immune system. He lunged at Rochelle and sank his jaws into the girl's neck.

* * *

"I said, let go!" Ellis became frantic as he struggled to free himself from Nick's grasp. The car was accelerating quickly, and the boy risked serious injury, were he to open the door and jump out. Without thinking, he sprung at Nick and the two of them wrestled for control of the steering wheel.

"Ellis, you little, fucking bastard!"

The car spun, blew a tire, and nearly tipped over. Nick overpowered Ellis and shoved the boy away from him as he steadied the wheel and pumped the brakes before coming to a stop. Simmering clouds of smoke were threatening to burst from within the vehicle's hood.

"GOD DAMN IT, ELLIS, YOU-"

Nick was promptly silenced when Ellis's fist slammed into his face with such force that a small crack appeared on the driver's side window as the back of his head collided into it. Nick blacked out for a few moments and Ellis crawled out of the car. The boy began ambling back towards the mall as quickly as his ankle would allow.

The conman watched in a daze as Ellis fell, got back up, hobbled along for a few more paces, and then fell again. Nick moaned and his vision began to spin. He continued to watch Ellis's form become smaller and smaller as the boy dragged himself along the ground on his stomach.

Nick stepped out of the car but quickly collapsed. The steady rain pelted him as he lay motionless on the ground.

_Choosing them...over me..._

An anguished cry from Ellis snapped Nick out of his stupor. He looked up but could no longer see the boy. He did, however, see several infected rushing back towards the mall along with an all too familiar sight emerging from the gloom that made his blood run cold.

A dark, skulking figure with large, scaled hands clenched and unclenched a set of black talons at the end of its long, sinewy arms. The shoulders were broad, the waist thin, and its legs remained bent in a semi crouch. It turned its nightmarish face towards him and flashed its reddened, double-rowed, shark-like teeth before turning and bounding towards the mall in the direction that Ellis had gone.

"Shit!" Nick snarled as he found the strength to rise and sprint to the boy's rescue.

* * *

Rochelle screamed and tried to pry Jimmy off her, but his strength was increasing with each moment. He knocked her to the ground and attempted to bite her again when Coach grabbed him. Although Coach significantly outweighed Jimmy, the man flailed about with such rabid fury that Coach had to body slam him to keep him pinned. As Jimmy writhed and squirmed, his elbow struck Coach's injured eye, causing the man's hold on the zombie to loosen. Jimmy wriggled free and leaped on top of Coach. His tanned skin was now as pallid as bone, and his sandy hair bleached a titanium white.

The two of them tumbled across the floor as Coach tried to keep the infected's mouth away from his face and neck. The man's back was pressed against the thin sheet of glass that separated him from a spine severing fall to the ground floor. With the shotgun still strapped to his back, Coach's body broke through the glass from the pressure that Jimmy exerted with his attack. The man gripped the ledge as Jimmy tumbled over him and grabbed his leg tightly.

Another horde began making its way in through the destroyed entrance. As they piled up the staircase, some of them leaped over the railing and managed to latch onto Coach and Jimmy. Fortunately, Coach's fingerless training gloves both protected the man's palms from the shards of glass, and increased his grip on the ledge as three zombies dangled from him like a demented chain.

As Jimmy attempted to climb up Coach's body, a bullet pierced his lower back, rocking the zombie's body enough for him to lose his grip on Coach. Jimmy and the rest of the creatures attached to him plummeted to the ground.

After recovering from the shock of being bitten, Rochelle ran into the storage closet and grabbed a crowbar. She proceeded to bludgeon the zombies that had made it up the stairs on her way to Coach.

Jimmy had received such a substantial increase in strength and soundness of constitution from the Virus that he rose from the floor with little injury as dead zombies rained down around him from Rochelle's efforts above. His milky eyes fixated on the horrified young man who had shot him.

"Jimmy..." Ellis wailed as his idol made a maddened dash towards him.

* * *

_But that thing wasn't real!_

Nick's mind screamed as he sprinted unsteadily towards the mall's demolished entrance with ever increasing trepidation- his pace slowed by the jagged gravel as his sore, unprotected feet slammed onto the debris-cluttered ground with every stride. Surely he was losing touch with reality. The illusory beast that had attacked him in the bathroom back at the Vannah had left him with no visible wounds, nothing to indicate that it had ever existed. Yet it had appeared before him again. Even now, as Nick prepared to leap into the building, he had lost sight of it. Surely Ellis would be in serious trouble- if the creature was real.

_What the fuck is happening to me?_

_

* * *

_

_"_This can't happen ta' you! Not ta' you, Jimmy!_"_

Ellis's sniper rifle went flying as Jimmy tackled him to the ground.

"Oh my God! Ellis!" Rochelle screamed as soon as she heard the boy yell. She looked down in disbelief to see him smothered beneath Jimmy's larger form.

"What?" Coach yelled and tried to turn his head around to look, nearly falling in the process, "The boy's _alive!"_

Coach began shimmying slowly over towards the staircase, his grip faltering with each movement as Rochelle continued to handle the diminishing horde.

So all-consuming was Ellis's trauma that he could not hear or see Coach and Rochelle above him. Neither could he bring himself to retaliate against Jimmy in any way. He crossed his arms over his face, more to keep from seeing Jimmy reduced to a slavering ghoul than to protect himself.

But suddenly Ellis wanted to look. He didn't want to shut his eyes and turn away from the man he had admired so much- as though by looking at him, he wouldn't be giving up on him.

"Fight it Jimmy, please!" Ellis cried, "I know you're in there, still!"

The race car driver suddenly stopped his attack, as though arrested by the boy's words. For the most fleeting moment, he stared down at the young man who bore a striking resemblance to Daniel, before wrapping his hands viciously around Ellis's neck.

Coach released his grip and landed on the stairway as Rochelle rushed down to join him. The two sprinted down the remaining stairs and Coach clenched and unclenched his fists to get the feeling back in his hands before reaching for his shotgun.

Ellis grabbed Jimmy's forearms, in an attempt to relieve the crushing pressure on his wind pipe. As his vision blurred, the boy did not see the face of a hideous zombie with ghastly, white hair and skin. He did not see the pair of soulless eyes, the caked blood, or blackened teeth.

He saw his hero.

He saw the face of the man who stood tall and enormous, both in his mind and on the poster suspended from the ceiling above his head. He saw the face of the man whose every race he watched religiously on television, and once in person, as the member of the crowd who had cheered the loudest. Then suddenly, Jimmy's face was gone.

Ellis filled is lungs with oxygen when Jimmy's hands released their grip on his neck. The boy closed his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth as the zombie's headless corpse slumped onto him, slathering blood all over his neck and chin.

"You may grovel at my feet," Nick stated as he helped Ellis up.

With complete disregard that Ellis was covered in blood, Rochelle nearly sent the boy down to the floor again with the ferocity of her hug.

"Oh, sweety I'm so happy to see you!"

"Well I'll be damned!" Coach patted Ellis heartily on the back.

The shock and horror of nearly dying at the hands of his idol blended with the elation of being reunited with Coach and Rochelle, and Ellis was unable to do anything but hug both of them tightly.

As the others shared their moment of jubilation, Nick studied his surroundings cautiously, searching for any sign of his monster. While doing so, he spotted a corpse wearing a decent pair of running shoes, just about his size. Although they were not nearly as stylish as his own had been before being partially dissolved, they were far more comfortable. After slipping the shoes on, he took one last look around and headed awkwardly towards the mall's exit.

_Just a hallucination._

"Hey, Nick!"

The conman stopped and turned to face Coach, who was approaching him rather swiftly.

"How's it going, Coach?" Nick asked rhetorically as he continued to walk out of the mall.

"You better explain yourself right now cuz I swear to God, I'm about to send you _to_ Him in pieces in a second!"

"Explain what? You fucking cyclops!" Nick shouted defensively.

Ellis shook his head slowly at Nick's ranting. The boy's hat could not be pulled lower over his face, and he kept his gaze firmly fixed on the ground as they stepped outside.

"You screwed us over, Nick! Without batting an eye, you just turned your back on us!" Coach held Rochelle's hand tightly. The petite girl's calming presence anchored him down as he struggled to keep from beating the conman into the dirt. A mixture of blood and tears began seeping through his bandages from the damaged eye beneath. Nick took a step back at the man's unexpected display of raw, emotional pain.

"I came back, did't I?" Nick spat on the ground as an excessive amount of saliva formed in his mouth, "I...I saw a way out and I took it, alright? I had to get the kid out of there!" Nick motioned to Ellis, and the boy began trembling. "He was hurt, and he still is! I wasn't going to risk fighting that giant freak when Ellis-"

"Don't you _dare_, Nick!"

Everyone turned to stare at the mechanic who had remained completely silent until that moment.

Nick's eyes narrowed, and a bead of sweat trickled from his hairline down the slope of his nose as he glared at the boy.

_Don't do this..._

"Quit makin' excuses! What you did was wrong, Nick, and you know it! Injured or not, I was more than willin' ta' do anythin' ta' help them, and you should a' been, too!"

"Willing to do anything, huh?" Nick sneered, "Cuz you choked when you saw 'Zombie Gibbs' back there."

"God damn you, Nick!" Ellis screamed, his final nerve struck, "What if we left _your_ ass behind! I have half a mind ta' do jus' that, you heartless, son of a bitch!"

Shocked by his own outburst, Ellis's eyes plummeted to the ground once more, his face blazing with heat at the look Nick gave him.

"Well that sounds about right, Overalls, because you really do only have half a mind!" Nick roared, his voice full of outrage, "So what? You want me gone, Ellis? Is that it?"

_You ungrateful, little bastard!_

Ellis couldn't have responded if he wanted to. His throat was completely obstructed by the enormous lump that had formed in it.

"Sounds like an excellent idea," Coach stated, rubbing his chin. Indeed he was just about to suggest the very same thing.

Nick released a deep, low growl from the pit of his throat.

"Look, Nick," Rochelle stated, trying to ease the tension, "As long as we're together we need to act like a family, whether you like it or not. We depend upon one another to make it through this shit. When the whole world is out to get us, and we can't even trust each other, then what hope do we possibly have?"

Nick's pupils contracted.

_Fucking hypocrites..._

"Don't come at me with this 'family' bullshit! Just like I said, the evac went to hell, so now what?" Nick continued swiftly when no one answered him, "You speak of 'hope', well I have no hope so long as I'm with you, clowns!"

"Glad you feel that way cuz we're partin' ways, Nick!" Coach shouted at him before turning to Rochelle, "For once, I don't agree with you. We don't need this guy poisoning our team. The three of us are better off without him."

"You obviously feel the same way, huh, Overalls?" Nick shouted to the boy.

Ellis visibly sagged, sighed heavily, and looked over at Coach.

"Can Nick and I have some privacy, please?" The boy motioned to the stock car, whose engine had stopped smoking.

"What for?" Coach looked at the boy with concern.

"I jus'...I gotta talk to 'im," Ellis whispered, full of grief.

"As long as you hand over the key, cuz I don't fucking trust him," Coach stared at the conman once more. His fists were clenched and his unbandaged eye narrowed.

Ellis approached the stock car slowly and placed a hand tenderly on the metal surface, his mind instantly forming an inseparable connection between the vehicle and its late owner. He pulled the key out of the ignition, walked back over to Coach, and handed it to him. He sighed again and turned towards the car once more. When Nick tried to sit in the driver's seat, the boy stopped him.

"There ain't no way you're ever sittin' behind Jimmy's wheel any more!"

Nick scowled and cocked an eyebrow as Ellis brushed him aside and sat down in the driver's seat. The conman circled around and sat down in the passenger side. They both closed the doors simultaneously.

Ellis kept his head down, and he stared at the steering wheel as he began to speak. The conman was instantly smothered in the aura of sadness and disappointment that emanated from the boy. He rubbed the bruise on his cheek and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"I jus' can't believe you, Nick. Ima' make this quick cuz it's painful for me. You ain't never gonna know jus' how painful."

Ellis filled his lungs with air and braced himself.

"I'm leavin' with Coach an' Ro. In this car. Without you."

"You can't be fucking serious."

"I am Nick. You can be so nice...so fuckin' nice, but in the end, none a' that matters."

_"_None of it _matters_?" Nick repeated in disbelief. His eyes widened, and his expression lay somewhere in the vast expanse between outrage and anguish.

"No! Cuz then you go an' pull shit like this! You were gonna leave them! It's inexcusable, Nick! There's nothin' you could possibly say or do ta' make things right cuz I know you ain't gonna 'pologize! Like Ro said, we're supposed ta' be a family! Families don't walk away from one another like that and-"

"Well then you've never met a family like mine! You're so fucking naive! And would you cut that shit out, Overalls? I'm never gong to like Coach, and you know what? I don't _have _to like him, despite what you may think!"

"I jus' don't understand. What is it about 'im that you hate so much?"

"I don't want to talk about that asshole, alright? Just drop it!" Nick's face took on a wild look, but only for the most fleeting moment before he reached for the door handle.

"Wait."

"What? You made your decision, Overalls! We're done!"

Ellis removed his folded Bullshifters shirt from his overalls pocket. Instead of putting it on, he held it out to Nick.

"What the fuck?" The conman folded his arms.

"You can keep it. Jus' in case you need it again," The boy still could not bring himself to look at Nick, his eyes becoming saturated. He reduced his voice to a whisper, which was the only way he could form the words without his voice breaking, "I'm really gonna miss you, Nick..."

The conman scoffed, his words cold and hollow.

"I neither want, nor will I need, your stupid shirt, now give me back mine."

Ellis hesitated, but removed Nick's shirt and gave it to him.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm through talking with you, Overalls. Have a nice zombie-filled life."

The boy began to shake and he finally looked the conman in the eyes. He hadn't planned on bringing the next subject up, but it was eating away at him, and he simply could not help himself.

"Tell me somethin' Nick. Last night...when we were in the tent-"

Nick's eye twitched and he stared at Ellis like a cornered animal.

* * *

Coach and Rochelle sat in another unlocked car a short distance away, to shelter themselves from the now steady downpour.

"How are you feeling?" Coach asked as he tended to the bite wound on Rochelle's neck.

"Alright, I guess. As alright as a situation like this will allow. You?"

Coach let out an immense sigh.

"Not good," Coach really didn't want to talk about his feelings at the moment, so he quickly changed the subject, "It's a shame that Jimmy Gibbs got infected, kind of worrisome, actually."

"Because it took him so long to change?"

Coach nodded gravely and stared out at the stock car.

"He pulled his gun on you long before that, though. Why?"

The man listened intently as Rochelle explained Jimmy's reasoning.

"It's terrible to lose a child, Coach."

The man nodded and his heart ached as he thought about his two children. Only then did he catch the full weight of Rochelle's words and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked gently.

Rochelle bowed her head slightly.

"Just over a year ago, my boyfriend and I were getting over a pretty rough patch in our relationship when I found out I was pregnant. Although I was focused on my career, I quickly embraced the idea of becoming a mother. I really wanted my child to grow up with a father around, so I did everything I could to make things work. But then, only four weeks in, I miscarried. My hopes were so high that when it happened, I was pretty devastated. Looking back on it now, I realize that it was a blessing in disguise, but still..." the girl placed a hand on her stomach, "There were a lot of emotions wrapped up in those four weeks."

"I'm sorry."

Rochelle produced a small smile.

"Although there was no way of knowing for sure, I felt in my heart that it would have been a boy," the girl looked over at the stock car as her hand stayed put on her stomach, "I still can't believe Ellis is alive."

Coach nodded his head.

"So what do you think they're talking about?" Rochelle asked as she began to scrape away at the chipped, red polish on her nails.

"That bastard's probably tryin' to weasel his way back into the boy's good graces," Coach snarled.

Rochelle sighed, "Ellis has been through a lot more with Nick than you or I, so I'm sure he feels a certain loyalty to him."

"Well then where in the hell does that leave us, huh? I still say we should cut all ties with that asshole. Forget the shit he just pulled, there's somethin' about him that's just not right."

Rochelle rubbed her neck and looked at Coach uneasily as the man continued to speak.

"Ever since we met up with those two, I've had a bad feelin' in my gut- and then back at the parking lot... the look in Nick's eyes..." Coach twitched slightly and shook his head, "Somethin's just not right."

* * *

"Nothing happened, Ellis. You were dreaming."

_I was dreaming..._

___"_That's not true!" Ellis shouted, "We-_"  
_

Nick bore a hole into the boy with the red sclera of his piercing eyes.

_Just a hallucination..._

"It was a hallucination, Ellis! Nothing more. You were so fucked up that you were delirious."

"How can you say that, Nick? After you-"

"Nothing happened!"

_Just a dream..._

"You was holdin' me real tight an' you..._we_ kissed!"

_Just a nightmare...this is all just a fucking nightmare..._

Nick's eyes began to bleed and he yanked Ellis close to him.

"It was nothing! _You_ mean nothing to me now, understand? You want me gone, then I'm gone! You can just run right back to Coach, you little asshole!"

___Crush him. Crush him the way he crushed you..._

"It meant something ta' me! _You _meant somethin' ta' me!" Ellis struggled to keep from falling apart, "I liked you, Nick! I looked up ta' you...when we were together it was just...right! Unlike you, I ain't ashamed, and I don't regret nothin' that happened between the two a' us!"

"You don't get it, do you, Overalls?"

"Yeah, I do get it! Coach and Ro are right! I can't trust you, Nick! You're an asshole and a liar!"

"_I'm_ a liar?"

"Yeah! You lie ta' me, and you lie ta' yourself!"

For several moments, only the rain pulsating on the roof and windshield cut through the silence as the two men stared each other down.

You know what, Ellis? _You're_ the liar."

Ellis forcefully released a puff of air from his nostrils.

"After everything that I've done for you, _I'm_ bad guy! _I'm_ the asshole, the one that can't be trusted?" Nick was fuming- raving, "Well guess what, Coach and Rochelle don't give a shit about you, Ellis!"

"There you go lyin' again, Nick! That ain't true!"

"And how in the hell do you know that? You think they're blameless- innocent- and I'm the asshole, right? That Bible-toting bastard thinks he's all high and mighty, passing judgement on me for 'turning my back' on them! Well _they_ turned their backs on me and on _you_, Ellis! They gave up on you! They just got up and left while I stayed behind looking for you!"

"No, that can't..." Ellis's eyes grew wide and he wiped his brow, the seed of doubt planted. His mind raced.

"You said you trusted me and now you're taking it back! You said you'd be there for me and now you're going to run off with fucking Coach! Who's the liar now, Ellis? WHO'S THE FUCKING LIAR, NOW!"

Ellis bit his lip and his stomach twisted into a knot. A low moan escaped from his throat as he wondered just how in the hell Nick had managed to turn a situation so crisply black and white into a murky shade of gray.

"Cuz you...you jus' told me that I didn't mean nothin' to you..." The boy's voice was tiny. His resolve was breaking.

"And do you know why I said that?" Nick also lowered his voice and his eyes took on a haunted look, "Because _I _don't mean anything to _you_, Ellis."

"N-not true..." Ellis choked out the words.

"Oh, but it _is_ true," Nick continued to speak slowly, his eyes burning. Each subsequent phrase chipped away at Ellis's soul.

"You were lost, so I waited for you. You were helpless on the ground, so I picked you up. You were hurt, hungry, thirsty and filthy, so I tended to you, gave you food and water, and cleaned you up. You were lonely, so I gave you a warm body to sleep next to..."

Ellis could no longer hold himself together. His tears started to flow freely.

"You wanted to have fun, so I played your stupid, little game. You couldn't run, so I carried you on my back. You were afraid, so I gave you strength. You were falling, so I caught you."

Nick paused as he watched Ellis fall apart, wondering if he should continue.

"Every good deed in my life, every single mother fucking good deed that I've ever done, was performed on you- _for _you, and after all that...it means nothing at all, does it? You said so yourself- none of it matters. None of it holds a candle to the fact that I 'turned my back' on Coach and Rochelle. It's like none of it ever happened. Like it was just a dream, a hallucination. Right, Ellis?"

The boy could not speak.

"You want to act like none of it matters, well then nothing that happened inside that tent matters, either."

Raindrops continued to dance in wind-driven bursts along a windshield that had become completely coated in the foggy heat of their argument. Nick rolled down his window to let in some much needed air, and pulled his empty water bottle out to catch what little rain he could through the bottle's narrow opening.

_God damn it, why can't I stay mad at you..._

All of the harshness had left Nick's eyes as he stared at the young man who was now slumped over the steering wheel in such an emotionally fragile state. His skin was still irritated, his leg still swollen. Nick began to think about all of the things that Ellis had done for _him_ in the short time they had known each other. All of the emotions that he had experienced when he thought he had lost the young man came flooding back and he wondered if he could willingly walk away from Ellis for good.

The conman placed his hand on the door handle, waiting for another word of protest from the boy. When none came, he pulled on it just enough to pop the door open slightly.

Ellis shifted a little and lifted his head just enough from amidst his folded arms for his eyes to peek through.

They both stared at one another, neither of them sure of what to do, neither of them sure of what the other wanted.

"You still want me gone?" Nick finally asked, his patience running thin.

Ellis shook his head.

"Well look at me, then."

Ellis straightened himself off the steering wheel, his eyes nearly as red and puffy as Nick's. The conman pulled the water bottle back inside and poured what little rainwater he had collected into his cupped hand.

"Always cleaning up after you," Nick mumbled as he brought his face close to Ellis's and began using the water to carefully wipe the boy's face clean, paying particular attention to his mouth, chin, and neck.

Were he not feeling so terrible, Ellis would have smiled both from Nick's touch, and the fact that even now the man was fussing about cleanliness.

"Nick, you know I 'preciate everythin' you've done for me...You're jus' tryin' ta' make me feel bad," the boy murmured.

"Well, did it work?" Nick's face was now a much healthier hue as he slid his thumb along the side of Ellis's mouth.

"Yeah," Ellis wiped his eyes, "Hell, ye-."

Suddenly Nick's lips were pressed firmly against his own. Ellis's eyes grew wide as the man cupped his hands around the back of his neck and advanced forward. Ellis complied by returning the kiss as Nick's forehead brushed the brim of his hat back and knocked it off his head. Nick exhaled deeply through his nostrils as he maneuvered around the stick shift and slid his tongue between the young man's lips. The simmering heat of their actions caused the driver's window to completely mist over as the back of Ellis's head pressed neatly into the small divot in the glass formed earlier by Nick's own head.

Ellis was now able to smile when Nick broke away from his mouth and began traveling down the small cleft in his newly cleaned chin. His brow raised and his eyes closed as Nick's lips traveled further down onto his neck. Ellis's mouth parted into a sigh at the sensation of rough stubble and soft suction at a particularly sensitive spot to the left of his adam's apple.

Nick reveled both in the throbbing pressure against his lips from the young man's quickened pulse, and the feeling of Ellis's large hands as they slid beneath his suit and across his shoulders. The young man's palms were slightly rough and calloused, but his fingers were wonderously soft as they peeled back the suit, revealing the tensed muscles of Nick's back as they traveled downward. After the slightest hesitation, Ellis's fingers probed further down Nick's back and pushed forcefully against his belt, unable to slip underneath the tight, leather strap. Nick's own hands, softer than Ellis's, flowed across the young man's torso- his rings providing minutely different sensations as their flawlessly smooth surfaces traversed the ridges of Ellis's abdomen.

The back of Ellis's head tingled as it slid down the slick, cool surface of the glass from the increased weight as Nick leaned into him, their lips locked together once more. Nick's fingers laced around and squeezed the straps of Ellis's overalls as he continued to push him downward until the young man was lying on the seat cushion. Ellis arched his back and groaned into Nick's mouth when the conman's hand traveled further down and gripped him firmly through the baggy material of his overalls.

"H-holy shit, Nick," Ellis whispered breathlessly. He lolled his head to the side as Nick proceeded to work his neck once more.

A sudden rapping on the window caused both of them to spring away from one another. Ellis's heart nearly stopped when he heard Coach's muffled voice on the other side of the glass.

"Can you two hurry this along? It don't take this long to talk, Ellis!"

Mercifully, Coach could not see a thing beyond the rain droplets and the heavily fogged glass.

"Jus' another minute, please!" Ellis called out to him. The man walked back towards the other car, grumbling.

Nick leaned back nonchalantly in the passenger seat as Ellis placed his hat back on with shaky hands. He looked over at Nick in astonishment, their intimate actions fully sinking in.

"Don't think you're off the hook jus' yet, Nick," Ellis murmured.

"Please, I was never on the hook," the conman smiled slyly, "not with _you_ at least."

Ellis sighed and rubbed his ravaged neck.

"You gotta 'pologize ta' them, okay?" There was a desperation in the young man's voice that Nick found himself enjoying far too much.

"Fine, whatever."

The rain had devolved into a pervasive mist as the two men exited the car and approached the others.

"Alright, look. I had my reasons, but what I did was still wrong. I apologize. It won't happen again."

So unexpected was the sincerity in Nick's tone that Coach stared at the conman with his mouth slightly agape. Rochelle nudged Coach when Nick extended his hand, and the man took it, shaking it firmly. Nick even returned Rochelle's neutral hug.

"This don't mean we're friends, Nick," Coach stated bluntly as he folded his arms.

"Of course not," the conman wholeheartedly agreed.

"It's gonna take a while for me to trust you."

"Yeah."

_You and me both..._

The rest of the day was spent resting up, collecting water from the intermittent rain showers, and guarding the car. Ellis replaced the blown tire with a spare and used the small toolbox in the trunk to fix up what he could under the hood. Nick occasionally stopped by to complain.

"Are you done, yet?"

"Almost, man. Almost. You do realize this is entirely your fault, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, but it can still drive, can't it?"

"Well, yeah. A' course."

"That's all that matters."

"Hey, Nick."

"Yeah."

"I wish you and Coach could jus' get along, but I'm real glad you 'pologized, at least."

The conman shoved the brim of the mechanic's hat down over his face.

"I've never apologized before, I'll have you know. Take that as you will."

"Well, hopefully you'll never have ta' do it again."

Satisfied with his handiwork, Ellis gleefully test drove the car around the parking lot, trying his best to fight the urge to perform doughnut maneuvers.

"God damn! This is a dream come true!" He whooped.

When it came time for him to rest up, Ellis sprawled out across the front seats of the stock car. Rochelle fell asleep in the back seat while Coach insisted Nick stay up and keep watch with him, as his way of keeping an eye on the conman.

"So how's life been treating you, Coach?" Nick glanced at the man and produced the cheesiest smile of his life.

Ellis couldn't help but chuckle before falling asleep.

* * *

Off in the distance, at the outskirts of a quaint, decimated town, an elderly soldier lay staring up at the starless void on a forsaken drawbridge. He closed his weary eyes as the voices of his past echoed across the lonely night.

_William...William..._


	10. Chapter 10

Part II

Resistance

_William... time to wake up, dear... You'll be late for school..._

Azure eyes snapped open, struggling with the utmost desperation to combat the nebulous haze that clouded them. How long had he been lying there, unconscious?

"My leg! Oh, God!"

The sound penetrated the shrill ringing in the soldier's ears as his feet found their place on the solid ground beneath him. The M-16, an extension of his own arm, rose to attention and he shifted his beret back to the spot above his ivory locks in which it molded most perfectly.

_Man down, Overbeck! Man down!_

The soldier placed one booted foot in front of the other as he staggered across the bridge in a frenzied, limping cadence.

_One! Two! Three! Four! Hut! Two! Three! Four!_

He knelt down next to his injured companion, wishing that he was stronger- younger- as he struggled to lift the man up.

"I've got him, old man! Just keep moving!" One who was in possession of both qualities the soldier longed for, brushed him aside and hoisted the injured man over his broad shoulders. He carried him the rest of the way across the bridge, towards the city's power grid. A power outage had sent half the city plummeting into darkness, and the thick clouds above choked out any hope of moonlight cutting through the gloomy night.

Bill clutched his chest as he watched Francis carry Louis. The old man had felt a chilling numbness spread across his left arm, knowing full well what that entailed, and as he removed his hand, he could feel the adhesive cling of his shirt against the flesh beneath. Looking down, Bill was shocked at just how red the beige material had become. He quickly zipped up his jacket as Zoey ran up behind him, motioning frantically for him to keep up the pace with Francis.

"Come on, Bill! Come on!" The girl grabbed him by the arm.

Bill turned his head as they scrambled across the bridge, witnessing the truly massive number of infected rushing in waves from the center of the quaint town of Rayford- a town whose population had recently exploded in preparation for some sort of celebratory event.

A dull rumble caused his grip on Zoey's arm to loosen as he commanded his legs to continue moving, the infected surging closer with his every faulty stride. Streams of gunfire cut through the swiftest zombies around them from Louis's assault rifle as the young man lay on the ground further ahead where Francis had placed him. Bill's eyes widened as the biker suddenly appeared next to him and shoved him forcefully to the side.

"Francis what in the hell-"

But Francis could not hear Bill's annoyed response, for the Charger that had the old soldier in it's sights plucked the younger man from the spot where he had stood an instant before.

"Shit!" Louis repositioned himself onto his stomach to aim at the fleet footed Charger, ceasing his protective cover fire on Bill and Zoey. As the girl and the old man readied their weapons, they quickly became enveloped within a sizable portion of the horde.

A thunderous roar could be heard from within the town on the other end of the bridge, accompanied by the grating sound of crushed metal as cars became airborne.

Louis's heart never pounded more furiously as he took aim and fired at the Charger's rapidly diminishing form. The beast, with Francis sprawled across the immensity of its arm, would careen into a stone dividing wall in moments. Most of Louis's bullets struck the monster's back, but several managed to bury themselves within the base of its skull. The Charger's legs suddenly froze, sending it toppling to the ground. Loosened from its grip, Francis tumbled horribly like a ragdoll. The back of his head slammed into the pavement when he finally came to a stop. Louis scrambled frantically across the ground towards Francis, but stopped and stared wide eyed as the biker leapt to his feet and proceeded to run towards him and the others.

Every time Zoey and Bill were forced to reload, several of the infected managed to strike at them. Despite the beating she was taking, the girl twisted her body at an uncomfortable angle to destroy a zombie that had come dangerously close to Bill's face as the old man shoved a replacement cartridge into his weapon with shaky hands.

The nerd with the popular girl good looks, Zoey had always displayed a jaded attitude that belied her nineteen years. Unsatisfied with the conventional interests of a girl her age, Zoey had spent her young life wanting something more. Once she was thrust into a living manifestation of her horror flick obsession, the girl had adjusted well- perhaps a bit too well. Zoey had never allowed the zombies, or the fact that she was constantly surrounded by a trio of guys, intimidate her. Recently however, she had discovered a crack in her armor and began to harbor doubts about herself and the three men whom she had grown to care for as much, if not more than her boyfriend, brother, and father- respectively.

Zoey cringed when Bill grunted in pain, and wasn't sure whether his back was leaning forcefully against hers as a form of comforting reassurance, or because the old man physically required her support to remain standing. The girl bit her lip worriedly when she realized it was the latter.

"Stay with me, Zoey..."

Francis only took several strides before the severity of his head wound caught up to him, and he crumpled to the ground- his head spinning. Louis redoubled his efforts when Francis stopped struggling to rise and lay motionless.

Lurking within one of the top floors of an adjacent building, a Boomer watched the skirmish taking place below it. The bloated, gluttonous beast pressed its thick, eager fingers against the glass of the window as it leaned its enormous berth against the smooth surface. The strain of its weight was far too much for the window to support and the creature broke through the glass, drenching Louis and Francis in a tidal wave of bile as it burst from the impact of its fall.

Completely covered in the Boomer's foul excretions, Louis pummeled the ground with his elbows and forearms as he closed the distance between himself and the unconscious Francis. With his injured, useless leg dragging behind him, the white-collar office worker pondered the utter mess that his life had been reduced to. Due to his background, Louis had numerous doors slammed in his face, and he had struggled through the muck on his way up the ladder of success to make it to where he was. The only thing that had kept him going then was the same thing that kept him going now as he crawled through a literal muck of bile- an undying positivity that neither man nor rabid beast could take away from him.

Louis didn't think about _how_ he intended to stave off the horde of monsters that had wrenched themselves from Bill and Zoey in favor of Francis and himself. His only thought was about actually reaching Francis. The man who he had formerly hated, was now a friend that he trusted with his life. He had always vehemently believed that as long as he and his three companions stuck together, everything would be alright. But that is not to say that Louis was naive. He knew death was always around the corner, but so long as they died _together, _everything would _still _be alright.

As he waited for Bill and Zoey to reach them, Louis quickly wiped the bile away from Francis's nose, allowing the biker to breathe. He then crawled on top of Francis, using his own body as a shield to protect the helpless biker as the horde descended upon them. Somehow, Louis found the strength to lift his rifle amidst the chaos.

"Come on, Francis, stay with me..."

From the moment of its creation, a hulking behemoth had lumbered about, deep within the city of Rayford, dazed and lost. Now, with the scent of blood emerging from the veins of untainted flesh on the other end of the bridge, the Tank had found a purpose- a reason to exist. Filled with a frenzied bloodlust, the beast proceeded to rampage towards the waterfront with a massive legion of its lesser brethren trailing in its wake.

Zoey pierced through the lines of infected surrounding her two immobile friends with the unmitigated power of her hunting rifle. By the time she reached Louis, who had been firing from within the wall of zombies, the man was littered with cuts and bruises. He smiled up weakly at her, his strength sapped by the Boomer bile leaching into his bloodstream.

Winded from his exertion on the bridge, Bill observed the ominous generator room that loomed before them as the howls of another horde, and the increasing tremors of the earth, rattled his bones. If they could just raise the bridge...stem the tide...

Bill was shaken from his thoughts at the sight of Zoey struggling to drag her fellow companions away from their exposed position in the middle of the street. Bill rushed to her aid, grabbing the much heavier Francis and hauling him with concerted effort towards a cage lift. Zoey followed closely behind him, dragging Louis who helped her by pushing himself along with his good leg. Once all four of them were inside the inoperable lift, Bill turned to Zoey, his eyes full of resolve.

"Stay here!" He commanded.

"What are you talking about?" Zoey's eyes widened.

"I'm gonna try to turn the power back on and raise the bridge! There are too many of those bastards on the other end of it!"

As if to punctuate Bill's words, the Tank that had finally reached the bridge, let out a murderous roar.

A Jockey suddenly latched onto Bill, pulling him away from Zoey, but the girl was able to shoot it off before it could lead him too far. The second wave of zombies made it across the bridge and began flowing in all directions, separating the old man from the rest of the group.

"Just stay where you are, Zoey!" Bill shouted as he powered up the generator and began retreating into the engine room as the zombies surrounded him. The noise of the machine as it began to build up power sent all of the nearby infected into a frenzy.

"Bill, wait! Let me help you!" Zoey cried out, but the cage lift was now equally surrounded on both sides by the zombies, "You can't do this to me!"

For several moments, nothing but the screams of the infected and Bill's frenzied rifle fire could be heard, until the hardened war veteran shouted from the depths of the engine room at the top of his lungs, pouring everything that remained within him into his words.

"I know this isn't much of a life, Kiddo...living this way! But I'll be God damned if I live to see the day these bastards take it away from you! From any of you!"

Zoey couldn't breathe. Her lungs seized up and her entire body began to shake. It had been a long time since the girl had last cried, but now, tears cascaded down her cheeks.

With Louis injured, and Francis out of commission, Zoey couldn't have joined Bill if she tried, and the girl was now doing everything in her power to suppress her anger and sorrow in order to protect her fallen teammates.

The shrill wheezing of a Spitter could just barely be heard above the roaring din, and the stilted, ostrich-like beast reared its head back as it aimed straight for the cage lift. Zoey tried to aim for the Spitter, but was unable to break away from the zombies immediately in front of her. Louis screamed when the zombies began trampling his wounded leg as they clamored inside the cage lift. The chaotic noise roused Francis from his stupor and the biker darted his eyes about in confusion. Zoey braced herself as the ball of acid shot through the air towards the three of them like a glowing meteor.

Every Witch in Rayford simultaneously split the air with the severity of their terrified screams when all of the lights in the city suddenly turned on, cutting through the darkness like a blazing beacon.

Both the bridge and the cage lift began to rise.

The ball of goo passed harmlessly beneath the lift as Zoey and Louis destroyed the zombies that had made it inside. The girl looked down at the ground in terror when the remaining infected turned their attention towards the engine room where Bill had been forced to retreat.

On the other side of the river, the Tank made a bounding leap through the air and managed to latch onto the bridge as it rose steadily. The rest of the infected trailing behind it continued to run right into the water, drowning almost instantly in the murky depths.

Although Bill's hope for survival couldn't have been more grim as he waded neck deep in the sea of infected that rushed through the door frame of the engine room, the old man couldn't have been more pleased when the generator finally produced enough power to raise the bridge and the lift. He also couldn't have been more pissed off when the power was suddenly cut out again.

"Son of a fucking bitch!"

The generator had used up what little fuel was in its tank, and the cage lift lurched to a halt mid-way through its ascent.

"Bill! What the fuck do you think you're doing, old man? Get your ass over here!" Francis had recovered enough to regain his senses and was now fuming with rage. The lift had risen enough that the biker had to lay on his stomach to peek his head through the small gap between the brick wall of the building and the floor of the cage lift.

The Tank had made it half way across the bridge.

Bill ignored Francis and headed slowly towards the fuse boxes on the wall to his right, the infected striking him all the while. Although Bill was no electrician, he was enough of a do-it-yourself-er to figure out which switch controlled the cage lift. All he needed was some damn breathing room.

God damn you, Bill!" Neither Zoey nor Louis dared to calm Francis down as he thrashed around in the lift, suspended and trapped within it. He wrenched Louis's rifle from the man's hands, threw himself onto the floor of the lift, and shoved the weapon through the narrow opening. He began firing haphazardly into the incessant horde as they continued to funnel through the doorway in their vicious assault on Bill until the rifle ran out of ammo.

"What the fuck was he thinking?" Francis roared at Zoey, "And you let him go in there by himself!" He grabbed her by the jacket and pinned her with unexpected force into the metal door of the lift.

"Francis, knock it off!" Louis shouted, but he was too weak to defend the girl from the biker's rage.

Zoey shoved the butt of her rifle into Francis's stomach, causing him to release her as he doubled over.

"Francis, you-"

Zoey was cut off by the rumbling of the Tank as it neared the end of the bridge. The creature's roars sent Francis further out of control.

"I'm gonna kill you myself, Old Man! I SWEAR TO GOD!" Francis hurled himself into the lift's metal, wire-framed door.

The biker had held little regard for much of anything besides his fellow Hell's Legion members, his motorcycle, and his leather vest. He also held a sense of honor and pride for past actions that were anything but honorable as a member of the infamously ruthless gang. In truth, he had joined the Legion to fill the loneliness in his heart left by an alcoholic father who walked out on him and his mom when he was a boy. Fueled by insecurities, the biker elevated himself in his mind and eventually believed he was too good to even _like_ anything or anyone. However, his heart had softened upon meeting his new companions, and he simply could not handle the thought of losing the new father figure in his life. Not like this.

The Tank averted its soulless eyes to ground as it spotted a tiny, human form struggling to survive within the cramped confines of the engine room.

"I AM NOT-" Again Francis hurled himself into the door, sweat and blood streaming down his face from a ruptured vessel in his forehead.

Bill managed to open one of the fuse boxes before the horde pinned him dangerously against a hydraulic turbine.

The earth shook as the Tank leapt off the raised bridge and landed on the street.

"GONNA LET YOU-" The cage lift lurched from the impact of Francis's body, but the biker was simply unable to produce enough momentum within the tiny space to break through. Zoey tearfully curled up in a corner, if only to give Francis the space to deal with his emotions the only way the man knew how.

Bill kicked and swung his rifle wildly, beating the infected back as he reached desperately for the switch to power the lift, lest his team be indefinitely trapped within it.

"LEAVE ME-" Warped metal pierced into and shredded the flesh of Francis's bicep, ruining portions of the intricate tatoos adorning it. Bitter tears streamed down the vertical creases in his cheeks.

Rather than maneuvering around or climbing over the chain link fence that lined the perimeter of the generator room, the Tank simply annihilated it as it crashed through the structure. The beast began destroying the remaining zombies in its path, their bodies shooting through the sky as it hurled them about.

"THE WAY HE DID!" With his last ounce of strength Francis slammed his body into the now distorted metal door for the final time. The cruel, unyielding steel absorbed and redistributed the force of the impact back into him. He crumpled to the floor and became silent as he looked down at Bill through the pathetically small space afforded to him.

Bill looked out through the door frame of the entrance to the generator room, and was able to just see the top of a closely shaved head with a pronounced widow's peak and a pair of eyes full of every possible emotion peering down at him from the cage lift. They belonged to the one member of his team whose reckless actions once caused no end to the soldier's grief- The one whose abrasive personality once clashed so fervently with his own- The one whose pervasive negativity had once pressed upon his every nerve- The one whose obstinate stubbornness and newly found reverence prevented the man from looking away from Bill's final act of heroism.

The soldier flipped the switch and the lift began to rise once more.

At roughly five feet, eight inches in height, Bill had always wished that he were a taller man. It would have made his time in the service a little easier. Although he was now dwarfed by the immensity of the Tank in front of him, Bill never stood taller than in that moment.

Bill had mouthed off to his superiors in boot camp, and occasionally disobeyed orders while on the field. But now, as he shouted profanities into the Tank's face, he was never more defiant than in that moment.

_William...Time for bed, dear..._

The old man closed his weary eyes as the Tank reared up- its lethal arms held high.

The first time Bill took up his gun, it was to serve his country.

The second time Bill took up his gun, it was to protect himself.

And now, as Bill took up his gun for the final time, he did it only to both serve and protect the three souls whom he cherished above all others.

Bill opened his eyes. Although the Tank came down on him like an inexorable mountain, to wrench his fragile life from the face of the earth-

Bill never felt more alive than in that moment.

* * *

US 1st Special Forces Private- William Overbeck lay cradled and secure in a pair of tatooed arms as anguished tears dripped onto his motionless face.

The last to pay his respects, the biker placed Bill gently on the ground. He removed the cigarette from the old man's mouth, placed it in the pocket of his jeans, and stepped towards the bridge, barely acknowledging the words that cut through the bitter night.

"Francis! I can see a car on the other side!"

The biker turned towards the fallen soldier once more. It felt so wrong to just leave him there. So wrong.

"I...I _love _you, old man..." Francis sniffed, a small smile forming on his quivering lips, "And I'm gonna...I'm gonna kick your ass for doing this...the next time we meet..."


	11. Chapter 11

"Ellis! Help me, please!"

The young mechanic tore across the tattered streets with a horde of infected literally nipping at his heels. His breath came in rapid, panting bursts that failed to deliver an adequate supply of air to his lungs. The searing pain in his ankle became impossible to ignore and he was soon overtaken by the zombies as he struggled to reach the man who was crying out to him.

_It's all my fault...all my fault..._

Try as he might, Ellis could not move beneath the crushing weight of the horde, and he watched in terror when one of the creatures began to approach his fallen friend. He reached desperately for a gun that was no longer there.

_I should have told you sooner..._

Ellis closed his eyes tightly and winced upon hearing the screams of agonizing pain as the monster began tearing the other man apart.

_Before it was too late..._

If only he could take that pain away. If only he could just be by the man's side.

Suddenly, Ellis's silent prayer was answered when he opened his eyes to find that the entire horde had vanished. Before he could fully grasp what had happened, he looked down to find himself kneeling over a corpse. Its familiar face was dreadfully pale, and as he reached out to run his fingers gently along the receding hairline, Ellis found himself unable to breathe. His hands were completely drenched in the blood that flowed from the corpse's open chest.

_All my fault..._

Ellis nearly hit the ceiling as he jolted awake, struggling to remember where he was. He clutched Jimmy Gibbs Jr.'s steering wheel for dear life as he leaned his head against the driver's window.

"I'm so sorry, Keith," the boy whispered as he collected himself.

He could just see Rochelle in the darkness, still asleep in the back seat. Unable to fight his exhaustion, Coach had retired from his watch duty and was sleeping next to her in a seated position. Ellis's brow furrowed as he looked about worriedly for Nick, and popped the door open upon seeing the conman seated on the hood, still partaking in a silent vigil.

Encouraged by the way Nick had treated him in the car, Ellis climbed onto the hood and sat very close to him, placing his hand on the conman's shoulder as he watched the moon's dim halo struggle to break free from the clouds that smothered it.

"Why are you out here by yourself? It ain't safe. Come back in the car an' rest."

Nick shrugged.

"I did go in the car once Coach decided to call it a night, but between his snoring, and _you_ hogging up all the space up front, I couldn't sleep."

"Oh," Ellis rubbed the grit out of his eyes, "You coulda' asked me ta' move over. I was havin' nightmares anyway, so I wouldn't a' minded bein' woken up."

"I wanted some air, and I kind of liked having some privacy for once," Nick looked at Ellis for a moment, hoping the mechanic would take the hint, or at least remove his hand from his shoulder, but continued when he didn't, "It gives me some time to collect my thoughts."

"What'chu been thinkin' about?"

"Lots of things."

"Like what?" Ellis ventured.

Nick ignored the question and for quite some time, nothing but the incessant buzzing of insects and the occasional gust of wind could be heard. However, the boy waited patiently for Nick to answer and his eyes remained glued on the conman.

Nick sighed, looked down at Ellis's injured ankle, and calmly lifted it onto his lap.

"Like how my life has become a lousy shit hole," he relented rather robotically as he untied the laces of the boy's boot.

"I 'been thinkin' about my family a lot, an' my friends..." Ellis's voice trailed off. The slight discomfort from Nick's gentle but firm pressure on his ankle provided a distraction from the emotional pain of missing Keith, Dave, and his mom. He quickly pushed those painful thoughts to the back of his mind, "It ain't all bad, though. All a' this runnin' around an' shootin' zombies an' shit- it's kinda' exitin'. "

"Yeah, and you're kind of sick."

"Do you miss your family an' friends?" The boy was eager to learn more about the conman.

"I don't have any friends," Nick countered quickly.

"None at all?"

"No."

Ellis hunched his shoulders slightly and scratched the back of his neck.

"Not even a _new_ one? You know...somebody that you mighta' met _jus' recently_..." A look of hope spread across Ellis's face.

"How does your ankle feel?" Nick asked, ignoring the boy.

"It feels kinda' nice," Ellis replied as Nick rolled the joint around gently with his hands, "a lot better than it did this morning."

"Yeah, well it's never gonna heal up if you keep running around on it like an idiot."

"We won't be havin' ta' do much runin' as long as we've got Jimmy, here." Ellis patted the hood of the car with his hand.

Nick snorted and shook his head.

"I'm thinking I should drive."

"No way, Nick," Ellis folded his arms.

"You're in no position to argue," Nick held the boy's ankle menacingly, "Cuz I can put a whole world of hurt on you right now."

"Aw, come on! That ain't fair," Ellis began to squirm about and tried to pull his foot away, but the conman held it firmly.

"What better way for your ankle to lock up than by pressing down on the accelerator pad for God knows how many miles?"

"Well…can we take turns at least?" Ellis sounded like a child pleading with a parent, "I've jus' gotta drive this thing! You don't know how much it means ta' me!"

"Fine, Christ."

Ellis smiled warmly, "So what else is on your mind?"

"I've been thinking about my ex-wife a lot. Kind of miss the old nag," Nick smirked and punched Ellis lightly on the shoulder.

The boy blinked at him twice.

"Your ex-wife?"

"Yeah. Damn, was that broad a good lay." With Ellis's foot still on his lap, Nick folded his arms behind his head and leaned back onto the windshield.

As Nick spoke, Ellis rubbed at the itchy, peeling skin on his cheeks and arms, exposing small patches of healing skin underneath.

"She was a knock out. Had the biggest pair of-"

"Hey, Nick?" Ellis interrupted rather forcefully.

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

The conman scrunched up his brow as he looked at the boy.

"What part of, 'my life has become a lousy shit hole' did you not understand? Of course I'm not okay."

"That's not what I mean. I've been watchin' you, Nick- the way you've been movin' around, the way you've been actin' all strange-"

Nick lifted his upper body off the windshield.

"Ellis, you've known me for all of what? Two days now? So you have no basis to compare your little observations to how I normally act."

"No need ta' eat me alive, Nick," Ellis stated quietly, "I'm jus' worried about you is all. You've been throwin' up a lot too. You can't be feelin' good."

Nick sighed.

"Alright, so I haven't been feeling one hundred percent." Nick wanted to leave it at that, but Ellis continued to stare at him. By the look in the boy's tired eyes, 'worried' was an understatement.

Nick placed his hand on Ellis's shoulder.

"Quit your worries. You and I are unstoppable, remember? You said so yourself."

Ellis attempted to protest, but Nick cut him off.

"Try to get some rest, Overalls," Nick's smile was genuine, "You've got to drive us out of here soon."

The conman noted rather uneasily, that for the first time, Ellis's return smile seemed rather forced.

* * *

Zoey brushed the stray strands of rain-soaked hair away from her eyes as she stared down in disbelief at the racecar that pulled up to the raised bridge. She could see the tiny form of a young man exit from the driver's side. He flailed both arms about excitedly upon seeing her.

"Ho-lee-shiiit! I mean, howdy there!"

"Uh, yeah 'howdy'..." the girl replied. The boy's enthusiasm only served to slightly annoy her as she continued to mourn the loss of her fallen comrade.

"My name's Ellis! What's yours?"

"Zoey."

"Hi Zoey! Pleasure ta' meet you!"

"Yeah..."

"Do you think you could lower the bridge for us?"

"No, sorry. Can't do that."

"No?" Ellis scratched the back of his head, "Um..._please_?"

By this time, Nick had joined Ellis and the conman stared up at the girl with narrowed eyes as she attempted to explain herself.

"Look, the generator we used to raise the bridge is out of power and-"

"So why don't you gas it up for us, toots? Or are you incapable? Incompetent? Both? Is there a man around that I could talk to?" Nick sneered, but he winced upon feeling the swift, vicious kick to his ass that Rochelle provided him.

"Ah! What the fuck?" Nick rubbed his backside- still a little tender from where he had administered the vaccine.

"I don't have the patience for this bullshit right now," Zoey clutched the hunting rifle tightly in her hands, "And I am fully _capable_ of shooting you where you stand!"

"For Christ's sake, lady, I was joking!" Nick produced a crooked smile, "But seriously, is there a man up there?"

"Ugh!" Zoey threw her hands up in disgust, "He's all yours, Francis!"

The biker made his way over to where Zoey had stood, and the girl moved out of sight to sit next to Louis.

"Nice ride," Francis shouted rather glumly.

"Yeah, ain't 'e a beauty?" Ellis shouted back.

"It is. I'm into motorcycles myself, but I sure do appreciate the fine piece of craftsmanship that is your car."

"Hey, I changed my mind! Could you bring the girl back?" Nick shouted after taking one look at Francis.

"Oh, man!" Ellis was filled nearly to bursting with excitement. He placed his hands on Rochelle's shoulders and whispered rather loudly into her ear, "He thinks the car is mine!"

"Well it kind of does belong to us now, Ellis," the girl replied.

"You're right…" The mechanic became eerily quiet, as though realizing this fact for the first time.

Taking the opportunity, Rochelle called out to Francis.

"Hey there! Is there anything you guys can do to help us cross this thing?"

Francis's mood lifted slightly upon taking a good look at Rochelle.

"We lost a good man, and another of us is pretty badly injured, so Zoey and I really can't risk going down there by ourselves to gas up the generator. Not with all of these God damned vampires running around."

"Vampires?" Ellis questioned under his breath with a smile.

"What's your name, babe?"

"It's Nick," the conman interjected with a smirk, "and don't call me 'babe' you Village People reject!"

Ellis clasped his hands over his mouth and puffed his cheeks in an attempt to suppress his laughter.

"Wasn't talking to you, asswipe!"

"The name's Rochelle."

"Tell you what, Rochelle, If the four of you can make it over to this side, we'll help you lower the bridge," Francis winked at the girl and tossed down a health kit to her.

Rochelle cringed slightly upon hearing Coach clear his throat in apparent annoyance, but thanked Francis and took the med pack.

Francis then turned to Ellis and tossed him an adrenaline shot.

"Here kid, you can have this."

"Oh wow! Uh, what is it?" Ellis looked down at the shot in his hands. It reminded him of the needle he had seen in the package Nick had dropped, except it was much larger.

"Adrenaline. It's your new best friend!" Again Francis winked, "Or at least it can be if you use it properly. It's something that a- a _friend- _gave to us. Gives you a nice boost!"

"Oh, okay," Ellis placed the shot his pocket.

"What, nothing for me?" Nick shouted, slightly offended.

"Come closer," Francis responded, and when Nick stood beneath him, Francis turned around, bent over and motioned as though he were going to pull down his pants, "Open wide!"

"Ugh, you would do something like that you filthy, assrat bastard!" Nick hastily stepped away from the bridge with an angry, repulsed look on his face.

"Ha! The only reason I didn't do it is because you would probably like it too much!"

"Fuck off!"

"Alright then, the both of you fuck off! Now let's get moving," Coach stated and the four of them turned to face the street, "I've heard of this town before- Rayford- it's supposed to be historically significant.

"Oh yeah? Well how so?" Nick asked absentmindedly.

"Guess we'll find out when we reach the tour." Coach pointed at a dilapidated sign.

"Joy," Nick stated flatly, "We have to go under the damn river, huh?" He fished through his pockets and pulled out his wallet, counting what little money he had left from his earnings at the bar back in Savannah, "Two hundred bucks says this 'tour' is gonna be filthy as fuck."

After Ellis had reassured the racecar that the four of them would return for it, the survivors dropped down from the cobble stone streets onto a tiny riverside park. Although a pervasive, heavy fog shrouded the town in a dreary cloak and completely obscured any hint of their destination beyond the murky green river, it could not conceal the scent of decay that wafted about the unsettled air.

Rochelle stopped and peered beneath one of the benches, nestled beside the park's ornamental shrubbery. The girl was completely unprepared for what she saw.

A corpse, so unimaginably defiled that Rochelle could only guess it was female, lay twisted and broken in a pool of liquid putrescence. The tattered strips of flesh that had once covered her crushed skull, lay strewn across the radius of her stiffened remains.

A small, rounded object was cradled within the corpse's arms. It was covered in a thin veil of wispy blonde curls, slathered and stained with dark mats of congealed blood. The mass of soiled strands concealed the tiny head of a young child- pressed tightly in an eternal embrace against its mother's eviscerated torso.

"What's the matter, Ro?"

Ellis had fallen back when he noticed Rochelle standing by the bench, and as he approached her, the girl quickly began covering the horrific sight with some soiled sheets that spilled out of the mounds of abandoned, black trash bags littering the ground.

"Nothing's wrong. Let's keep moving."

She pointed at Coach and Nick who had moved further ahead, and were maneuvering around the wreckage of buses and smaller vehicles on their way into a vandalized office building.

"What were ya' lookin' at over there?" The mechanic had noticed a pair of legs protruding from beneath the sheets and moved closer to investigate.

Rochelle grabbed his arm and the young man stopped to look at her. Ever since they had met, the girl had felt a strong urge to look out for Ellis. She didn't know why she had projected such nurturing tendencies onto the young mechanic, but his sweet face and trusting nature had conveyed an innocence, so seemingly fragile and pure, that no human being- not even Ellis himself- could have realistically possessed it. Yet here she was, treating him as though he were three, instead of twenty-three.

As if reading her thoughts, Ellis touched Rochelle's shoulder gently and produced a small smile.

"It's okay. I want ta' see."

Rochelle nodded solemnly and slowly removed the sheets.

"Damn…" Ellis whispered.

They both looked down at the haunting sight and found themselves unable to wrench their eyes from the sickeningly gruesome, yet heartbreakingly moving, display of raw humanity- something that was quickly being snuffed from the face of the earth.

Ellis turned to look at Rochelle when he felt her hand grab his. He remained silent as he watched her slowly place her other hand on her stomach.

"We should check in here for supplies."

Nick wasn't one to stop and smell the zombified roses. He wanted more than anything to get through this God damned city, but unfortunately, the thought of traipsing underneath a bridge, teeming with legions of microscopic horrors, was enough to get his stomach churning. He begrudgingly set aside his AK-47, practically devoid of ammo, in exchange for a silenced submachine gun- a weapon that the conman was intimately familiar with, yet decidedly more modest in power. Likewise, Coach had just acquired a new toy of his own, and he brandished the golf club as though he were standing at the eighteenth hole.

"My drive is gonna be perfect by the time we get to other side of the bridge," the older man chuckled, more to himself than to Nick.

"I'll bet golf is just about the only sport you can still play."

"Well it's one more than you and your manicured ass can play."

Before Nick could counter, he was interrupted by a series of heavy foot falls and the donkey-like braying of a Charger making its way down from the upper floor of the building. They retreated back outside, noticing that Rochelle and Ellis were no longer behind them.

A Hunter was stealthily traversing the roof of a bus that had collided into the office building, and it landed on Nick's back upon seeing him, sending the conman to the ground. Coach unleashed a tremendous line drive, striking the Hunter in the ribs with the substantial head of the golf club. The creature was launched through one of the bus's windows, and it landed in a heap inside of the vehicle.

Nick rose to his feet, but quickly leapt to the side as the Charger barreled out of the office building. The beast struck the bus, rocking the vehicle with the force of its impact. Nick fired his machine gun as he clamored back inside the building.

Alerted by the gunfire, Rochelle and Ellis sprinted as quickly as they could towards Nick and Coach, their efforts slowed by the pile up of cars.

Coach bludgeoned the Charger with his club until the creature recovered from its staggering impact, and he decided to follow Nick when the Hunter re-emerged through the broken bus window. It hopped onto the Charger's back before shrieking with rage and lauching itself at Coach. The older man shoved it back and quickly replaced the golf club with his shogun. He fired several times as he retreated up the stairs, but bumped into Nick. The conman's progress to the second floor had been blocked by the rest of the zombies inhabiting the building.

"Feel free to lend me a hand here!" Nick shouted in annoyance.

"I'll be happy to, as soon as I finish cleanin' up after _you_ down here!" Coach took aim at the Hunter when it landed at the foot of the staircase.

Rochelle reached the office building first, and was greeted with the Charger as it turned its attention to her. It swiped at her with its arm and Rochelle ducked. Making use of her small frame, the girl dove between the creatures legs. The frustrated Charger began slamming its fist wildly into the cars as it turned around awkwardly. It hunkered down slightly before rushing towards her.

With little room to maneuver, Rochelle jumped backwards, landing on her back on the hood of a car. She rolled off the vehicle just before the Charger slammed into it with the force of a freight train. The car lurched forward, knocking Rochelle's breath away when it hit her. She fell beneath the vehicle as it continued to roll across the small lot before coming to a stop near the water's edge.

Ellis grabbed the unconscious young woman by the arms and dragged her back towards the small park as the now exasperated Charger recovered from its latest impact. Noticing more zombies approaching them, Ellis adjusted his course, quickly opened the badly damaged car, and placed Rochelle inside of it. The boy readied his sniper rifle as the newly formed horde attacked.

"Am I gettin' weaker, or are these mother fuckers gettin' stronger?" Coach shouted as he blasted the wounded Hunter with his shotgun.

"Both," Nick managed to gain some ground and proceeded up the stairs, stepping carefully on the fallen corpses. More infected began filing into the building and onto the bottom of the staircase, forcing Coach to follow Nick up the stairs.

"Hey, slow down!" The infected were forcing the two men further away from Rochelle and Ellis. Coach was having a hard time staving them off, and the conman had stopped helping him and was stumbling towards the rear exit with a Jockey on his back.

"Son of a fucking-" The Jockey cut Nick off as it wrapped its arms around his mouth. It led him outside, over the metal porch railing, and onto the hood of an alarmed SUV.

Ellis began to realize what a horrible mistake it was to place Rochelle inside the car. It was so close to the water that if the Charger hit it again, it would surely send the vehicle- along with the unconscious girl- into the depths of the river. With the horde surrounding him, Ellis couldn't pull her back out of the car.

The Charger pawed the earth with its fist, bracing itself for one more impact.

Ellis allowed the zombies to strike him as he turned around to face Rochelle. He pounded his fist on the hood and pressed his forehead against the glass of the driver's window.

The girl was lying still in the front seats.

___I'm so sorry, Ro..._

The Charger began its final rush, splitting the remainder of the horde in half on its way towards the mechanic.

Ellis wondered if it was worth waking her up at this point.

His mind began racing in those final moments as the Charger seemed to move towards him in slow motion. Ellis pressed his back firmly against the side of the car, wondering if he should hold his breath as he continued firing at the beast- after all, he would be underwater in moments. Ellis knew this because whether or not he managed to kill the Charger, its momentum would still carry it forward. It would still slam into the car.

But it would have to crush Ellis first, because the boy had vehemently decided that he was not going to move. Jumping out of the way while Rochelle drowned in a metal tomb was simply unthinkable.

_I ain't gonna let you die all alone..._

Apparently Rochelle did not agree with Ellis's sentiments. Upon waking up, she forcefully shoved the door open, pushing Ellis out of the way. Suddenly the car was airborne, and Rochelle scrambled as far away from the Charger- whose head and shoulders were now wedged through the open door- as the small confines of the vehicle would allow. The car hit the water and began bobbing on the surface. Oblivious to the danger, the Charger attempted to climb the rest of the way into the vehicle, but it could not fit its hulking shoulders completely inside, and its massive arm pounded against the car's rear door. Its feverish struggles causes the car to rock back and forth until it finally tipped over and began sinking below the surface.

The rotation of the car caused Rochelle to fall on top of the Charger, and her back was pressed tightly against its disgusting face. Although the beast's skull was too caved in for it to bite her, the mere thought of being so close to the monster revolted her. Rochelle desperately tried to support herself by grabbing onto the front passenger seat, and managed to pull herself away from the Charger's head. The monster's weight was swiftly dragging the vehicle down to the bottom of the river, but the beast's large size filled much of the door frame, and was keeping the water from filling the interior too quickly.

Ellis stumbled from the impact of the door as the few remaining zombies surrounded him. He cursed loudly and ignored them as he shoved his way over to the edge of the river. He was horrified when he looked out to see that the car had already gone under, and with several zombies latched onto him, Ellis dove into the water. The zombies eventually released their grip on him the further down he swam. Ellis could barely see as he pushed through the filthy water as quickly as his arms and legs could propel him. The mechanic was a strong swimmer, but in his desperation to reach Rochelle, he was pushing himself beyond his limits rather than calmly pacing himself. Ellis had only made it half way to the bottom before his lungs began screaming for air.

The Charger was completely submerged now, and Rochelle inhaled her last couple of breaths via the tiny diminishing pocket of air. She was preparing to open the door, dreading the prospect of swimming such a great distance to the surface when the Charger backed out of the car. The sudden movement caused the vehicle to lurch, flip over, and completely fill with water. Rochelle panicked at the sudden loss of oxygen, and found herself unable to escape through the open door. She quickly grabbed the crowbar tied to her hip, thankful that she had kept it when they left the mall, and used it to break through the glass of the passenger side window. She pushed her slender body through the opening and began swimming as best she could to the surface.

Ellis caught sight of the Charger surging up from the black depths like an enormous shark. Apparently the beast had enough sense to realize that it could no longer breathe and was making its way back to the surface. However, it became torn when it noticed Ellis. Its desire for blood rivaled its desire for air, so the monster decided to partake in both. It adjusted its course and headed towards the boy.

Because it could only make use of one arm, the Charger's path through the water was as awkward and ungainly as it was swift. Ellis found it impossible to predict which way he should move to dodge the monster, and was ultimately unable to do so. It struck him in the chest, releasing what little air remained in his lungs. Ellis slipped from the Charger's grasp and he tumbled helplessly through the water. Out of instinct, he breathed in heavily and was greeted to the horrible sensation of water filling his lungs.

By the time Coach made it outside, the alarmed SUV had been swarmed by a newly formed horde. The man could barely see the vehicle beneath the writhing layer of infected bodies, let alone the conman. As Coach stopped to catch his breath, the zombies that had been following him began racing towards the shrieking car, piling on top of one another as they leapt onto the vehicle. So great was the mass of infected that the car began to cave under the weight.

Coach averted his undamaged eye to the dismally gray clouds above.

"Lord...what have we done to deserve this?"

As a bolt of lightning ripped through the sky, Coach pumped his shotgun and began firing into the legion of zombies.

Slowly but surely, Rochelle was making her way towards the surface. Her lungs were aching, and she nearly lost control of her concerted effort to hold her breath when she spotted Ellis above her, bobbing at the surface on his stomach. As small amount of blood swirled slowly around his mouth before dissipating into the surrounding water. His eyes were open, but unseeing.

His face was so devastatingly close to the surface that the back of his head occasionally broke free of the water as he continued to slowly bob up an down. The ever increasing wind stirred up the currents and caused his fallen, waterlogged hat to repeatedly brush against his side.

Rochelle wanted nothing more than to hold the boy- to wrap him in an eternal embrace. Despite still being completely submerged under water, Rochelle could no longer suppress the urge to cry out, and she released a scream so powerful that even the dark, ravenous water could barely suppress it. A plume of bubbles surged from her mouth, carrying her cries ahead of her. They rushed and swirled around Ellis's body before bursting at the surface.

As she reached out to grab him, the accursed Charger slammed into Rochelle's back, sending her down into the abyss once more. The girl plunged her crowbar into the Charger's face before blacking out completely.

* * *

Rochelle and Ellis lay on their backs on the hard surface of the tiny waterside park as the now steady rain pelted their motionless faces. A pair of muscular, tatooed arms shakily held the gleaming twin paddles of a defibrillator. The biker had contemplated using the carefully horded machine to resuscitate Bill, but the soldier had been too badly damaged by the Tank to be revived. The defibrillator had enough charge for one use, and with a boy on his left and a girl on his right- their skin blanching paler with each passing moment, Francis pondered the gravity of the decision he was about to make.

Francis shuddered as he pressed the paddles against an unmoving chest and could swear he felt the electricity surging through his own body as he used the device.


	12. Chapter 12

_...Ellis..._

_._

_._

_...Ellis..._

_._

_._

_...Ellis, sweetheart, how was your first day at your new school?..._

_...It was bad, momma! Real bad!..._

_...Now why is that, honey?... _

_...There was this bully, an' he- an' he picked on me!..._

_...Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. Come here..._

_...He called me names an' he threw s-some r-rocks..._

_...There, there. I'm gonna have a talk with his mother. What was his name?..._

_...K-Keith..._

_...You won't have to worry anymore, Ellis..._

_._

_...Ellis..._

_._

_._

_...Rochelle..._

_._

_._

_...Rochelle..._

_._

_._

_...Rochelle. How's my princess doing?..._

_...Daddy, I told you not to call me that anymore. I'm too old..._

_...Since when is eleven too old?..._

_...I'll be twelve next week, remember?...  
_

_...Oh, I remember. Your report card came in didn't it? Let me see it..._

_...All A's this time!..._

_...Now that's my girl! For that I think you deserve one of your gifts early..._

_...A video camera! Oh, thank you! Thank you! I love it!..._

_...I love you, Rochelle..._

_._

_...Rochelle..._

_

* * *

_

Nearly deafened by the shrieking alarm, Nick struggled to pry the Jockey off himself. He began slamming his back against the SUV's windshield from his position on the hood. The little Jockey let out a pained cackle as it's sharply protruding spine continuously collided with the hard glass, and it eventually let go of the conman. With the horde quickly forming around him, Nick rolled off the hood of the SUV and crawled underneath it. He reloaded his submachine gun and fired at the zombies' feet as they mindlessly attacked the vehicle. One of the car's tires exploded from the weight of the zombies as they piled onto the car, causing it to sink closer to the ground.

Nick could hear a second gun, louder than his own, mowing down the horde. He was soon unable to continue firing when the corpses began piling up around the vehicle, plugging up the space between the bottom of the car and the pavement. Before Nick could back out from under the car, the Jockey had joined him. The little monster quickly reached out its grubby hands to grab the conman, despite having no space to latch onto him.

"You! Little! Fucker!" Nick shouted as he bludgeoned its horrid face with his gun.

Giggling like a lunatic, the Jockey wrapped its bloody fingers around the weapon and tried to pry it out of Nick's hand. The conman pressed the trigger, but with the Jockey shaking his arm, he ended up hitting another of the car's tires. The SUV began sinking dangerously, threatening to crush Nick. The Jockey managed to kick him in the ribs repeatedly as it wriggled about on its side. Nick grabbed one of the Jockey's calves with his free hand and twisted it with all of his might. He reveled in the popping sound as he managed to dislocate the creature's leg.

The Jockey shrieked and bit the wrist of Nick's other hand, causing him to drop the gun. Again the car lurched, so Nick shoved the Jockey away from him and slid out from underneath the vehicle. He staggered over to Coach, who was still handling the horde. The car's alarm stopped ringing as it sank completely to the ground. The remaining zombies instantly broke away from the car and rushed towards them.

"This is too fucking much!" Nick shouted, pulling out his spare pistol. The zombies forced them down the parking lot, and they rounded the corner towards an apartment complex. Firing the entire way, the two men managed to silence the horde and made their way inside the building. They barricaded the door with everything that wasn't bolted down before collapsing onto the floor next to one another.

Completely exhausted, Nick continued to lie on his back long after he had caught his breath. His head was spinning and he could feel the beginnings of a migraine setting in. He hissed in pain and opened his eyes to see Coach seated next to him. The older man was cleaning Nick's bite wound with what little supplies he had left in his med kit.

Nick turned his head away, his brow furrowing, as Coach encircled his wrist in gauze.

"You didn't have to do that. Thanks," Nick mumbled, feeling extremely awkward at Coach's kind gesture.

"Wow," The older man smiled and produced a small grunt.

"What?"

"You probably died a little inside by thankin' me, Nick. Kind of makes me appreciate it a little more is all."

Nick let out a small sigh and lifted himself into a seated position. Freed from the hold of styling gel by the incessant rain, his glossy hair fell onto his forehead, just above his eyes. He smoothed it back as he slowly ran his fingers through it. Wordlessly, he unstrapped his own health kit and made his way over to Coach.

"Save it, man. I didn't get hurt. We need to go find the others anyway." Coach got up to head for the door, but winced and quickly sat back down.

"Didn't get hurt, huh?"

"Nah, it's just my damn knee actin' up. It's an old injury."

"Well, don't walk around on it." Nick approached Coach once more, med kit in hand.

"Gauze and bandages ain't gonna fix this, Nick. I've had cruciate surgery and still, it was never the same afterwards," Coach shook his head slowly, "If it wasn't for this damn knee I could have gone pro."

"Football?"

"Hell yeah."

"Well it wasn't your knee I was aiming to fix. Let me have a look at your eye. I think it could use some fresh wrapping."

"Oh..." Coach scooted closer to Nick and observed as the conman laid all of his medical supplies neatly in small rows.

"Keep talking, Coach. It's too damn quiet without Ellis around," Nick untied the small knot that held the bandages around Coach's head.

"Yeah, it is," Coach chuckled before becoming serious once more, "God, I hope those two are alright."

"Ro's a tough girl," Nick stated, noticing how Coach seemed to light up at his words, "I'm sure she can take care of herself."

_It's Ellis I'm not so sure about..._

"Don't I know it. She's pretty remarkable," the older man was silent for a moment, "I just...I don't know what I would do without her, you know?"

Nick made his way around to look at Coach's eye. His entire cornea was glazed over with a film of old blood and large veins had grown across the entirety of the eye- his body's own attempt to bring nutrients to the area and promote healing.

"Damn, can you even see out of that thing?" Nick asked as he flushed the eye out with saline.

"Not really," Coach sighed, "Everything's dark and cloudy."

"That's because you have blood trapped inside your eye. I assume you got scratched."

"Yeah."

"I'm not gonna lie. Your eye looks really terrible, but the scratch itself doesn't look too deep. You'll probably regain some sight once it heals up and all those veins retract. And I'm pretty sure you'll reabsorb all that blood."

"What, were you a doctor or somethin' before all this?" Coach cocked his head and smirked.

"Dr. Nick," the conman stated as he placed fresh gauze over the eye and wrapped new bandages around Coach's head.

* * *

..._Rochelle..._

_._

_._

_...Rochelle..._

_._

_"_Rochelle!"

The young woman's eyes snapped open as a life-giving jolt of electricity surged throughout her body. For several moments, she could see nothing but a blindingly white light that slowly dissipated, revealing the stark, harshness of reality- cold, dark, and damp.

Francis stared down at the girl, his face pale and drenched in sweat.

"Where am I? Where's Ellis?" Rochelle immediately lifted her upper body off the pavement, her eyes growing wide with mounting panic.

"Easy, easy!" Francis grabbed her shoulders to steady her, but she quickly brushed his hands away upon seeing Ellis lying a few feet away.

"Oh my God!"

Rochelle knelt over the boy and immediately began compressing his chest. She knew she had to remain calm in order to properly perform CPR.

"Sweetie, wake up!" Fighting back tears, Rochelle lifted Ellis's chin and filled his lungs with her own breath. She then resumed compressing his chest as Francis slowly approached her.

"Please wake up, _please_!" Rochelle's voice came out as a high whimper, and Francis bit his lip upon hearing it.

"Rochelle, I think he's-"

"Not another word!" Instantly all the strength returned to her voice as she effectively silenced the biker. She then noticed the defibrillator on the ground, grabbed it, and placed the paddles on the boy's chest.

"Why didn't you use this?" she screamed.

"I did! On you! It has no power left!" Francis lowered his voice in an attempt to calm the distraught woman down, "Listen to me, I think the kid's too far gone."

"No!" Rochelle unsuccessfully tried to fight the tremors wracking her body as she tossed the now useless defibrillator to the side and continued an incessant series of chest compressions. Her back and shoulders were aching from the Charger's assault but she refused to give in to the pain.

She refused to give up on him.

"I'm not gonna let you leave me!"

Francis shut his eyes tight at the familiar words, filled with the same anguish he had just experienced.

"I'm not gonna lose you too..."

Before Rochelle could protest, Francis grabbed her and pulled her away from Ellis. He simply could not stand by and watch her suffer.

Suddenly struck with an idea, he fished through Ellis's pockets and pulled out the adrenaline shot he had given him. He pulled up the boy's shirt and began running his hand over Ellis's chest- searching for the heart that had stopped beating.

"What in the hell are you doing?" Rochelle demanded, a grim realization spreading across her features.

"I saw this in a movie once."

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"We're out of options!"

Rochelle exhaled shakily and placed two fingers on the young man's chest.

"If you're looking for his heart, it should be right here."

"Alright, don't fucking die on me, kid." Francis uncapped the needle and turned to Rochelle, "Stand back."

Rochelle cringed as the biker shoved the tip of the needle directly into Ellis's heart.

* * *

"Thanks for that, Nick." With his eye bandages changed, Coach began to rub at his aching knee while the conman placed the left over supplies back into his med kit.

"Yeah, don't worry about it."

"Now I just need a minute to get this damn knee up to snuff," Coach observed the conman for a moment before continuing cautiously, "I've been thinking about what went down back at the mall, and honestly Nick, I'm torn."

The conman looked up at Coach out of the corner of his eye, his headache coming on stronger by the moment.

"On the one hand, I feel as though I stepped out of line when I said we didn't need you and that we should have just left you behind...but then the sight of you gettin' into the car and drivin' away keeps playin' over and over in my head." Coach let out a deep sigh.

Nick looked down at his hands, wondering when they had become so pale. His eyes quickly traversed the room for a mirror as he wondered nervously if Coach had taken notice of his skin's ghastly hue.

"What I'm tryin' to say, Nick, is that I really want to believe that you're a good person deep down. You sure don't make it easy for me, but what you did just now, it helps a little."

"Yeah, I..."

Nick didn't always set out to be an asshole, but with the constant stress of their current situation putting him on edge- combined with the strange illness he seemed unable to shake off- controlling his less than appealing traits was getting more difficult to do. The fact that he was afraid also frustrated him to no end, and covering that fear with an abrasive demeanor was simply much easier on his fragile ego than revealing it to anyone.

He couldn't explain all of this to Coach because he didn't know himself as well as he thought he did. Somewhere along the way, Nicolas- in his purest form- had been obscured amidst every lie, every con, every theft, and every bad decision he had made over the past thirty five years.

"You got a family, Nick? A wife? Kids?" Coach asked. His tone was much more lively in an attempt to snap Nick out of his brooding thoughts.

"No kids...used to have a wife, though." Nick's words were quiet, his attitude sullen.

"Oh. Did she..."

"Die? I don't know. Last time I saw her she was fine. When I said 'used to', I meant we divorced. As far as my family goes, I pretty much cut ties with all of them. Some life, huh? What about you?"

"Well, my wife passed away three years ago, and my kids...I have no idea if they're alright." Coach bowed his head low.

Like Nick, the older man was unused to expressing himself so openly. Unlike the conman, however, Coach usually hid his vulnerabilities behind a combined veil of stoicism and lighthearted humor, and when all else failed- an undying sense of pride.

"Xavier and Emmanuel. I couldn't ask for better sons. They're away at college. Both of them are freshmen, but they went to different universities of course."

"Both of them are freshmen? So they're twins?"

"Yup. Identical." Coach beamed, "I have a younger brother who I was hopin' to run into somewhere along the way. He's the only immediate family I had left who was still livin' in Savannah."

_Oh, shit..._

Nick fidgeted slightly, realizing why Coach had seemed so familiar when they first met- why he had instantly developed an aversion to him.

"Of course, with his line of work, he ended up all over the place. My brother the detective," Coach smiled fondly, "Apparently he was called in to track down a pretty notorious low-life just before this whole mess started."

_Ah, fuck..._

A series of slow yet forcefully loud banging abruptly ended the conversation, and both men quickly approached the door.

"Ro? Ellis? Is that you?" Coach asked, which only caused the banging to become more rapid and frantic. The older man began removing the furniture away from the door.

"They would have responded if it was them." Nick began helping Coach remove the desk and chairs despite his better judgement.

"Yeah, but what if they're too injured to talk?"

With their barricade removed, Coach quickly opened the door, shotgun in hand.

"Looks like this visitor is for you, Nick." Coach's tone of voice was rather odd as he stepped away from the door.

The conman peered out in confusion when he didn't see anyone, but a small snicker sent his gaze downward.

He was greeted to the sight of the crippled Jockey, his fallen submachine gun clasped tightly in its awkward, mantis-like grasp. The wretched little beast began thrusting the weapon at Nick, as if willing the bullets to shoot out of the weapon and strike him.

Nick couldn't help but throw his head back and laugh hysterically at the absurd sight, and of course, the little monster joined in before dropping the gun and trying to jump on him in a fruitless, last ditch effort. Due to its dislocated leg, it failed miserably and landed in a heap at the conman's feet.

"This is fucking ridiculous," Nick stated before grabbing the Jockey and punting it savagely across the lot.

* * *

Jolted back into existence, Ellis writhed about on the floor as the adrenaline entered his heart- effectively jump starting it. He inhaled deeply before springing up onto his knees and violently expelled the water from his lungs. He rolled onto his back as his muscles twitched and he began gasping heavily for air. His lungs struggled to keep up with the demands of his now furiously beating heart. His eyes, whose pupils had dilated, darted about wildly, and his face had contorted into a look of panic, fear, and confusion.

After staring in shock for several moments, Rochelle attempted to rush to Ellis's aid, but Francis grabbed her arm.

"I told you to stand back. Just give him a second."

Francis cautiously approached the boy when he had stopped twitching.

"Hey, kid. Are you alright?"

Ellis nodded, still breathing heavily, and a small smile formed on his face.

Rochelle nearly smothered the boy as she hugged him tightly.

"How do you feel?" She asked as she helped him up into a seated position.

"Feels like I drank...twenty can's a' beer an' like, fifty cups a' c-coffee," Ellis stuttered and continued to fidget slightly as he braced himself by leaning heavily against Rochelle.

"Alright, it looks like I'll be joining you two for the time being," Francis exclaimed after Rochelle and Ellis had collected themselves.

"Really? That is awesome!" Ellis found it even more difficult than usual to control his enthusiasm, as well as the speed in which he spoke, due to the magnifying effects of the adrenaline coursing through his veins, "Hey, did I thank you for savin' my life? I don't think I did, so thank you kindly- uh...um... what's your name anyways? I don't recall you sayin' it an' well, my name's Ellis if you didn't hear me when I told Zoey and-"

"Whoa, whoa, kid! Calm down. It's Francis."

The biker made his way over to the bridge and explained to Zoey that he was going to escort Rochelle and Ellis across the city.

"Are you serious, Francis?" Zoey shouted, her voice full of concern.

"I am. Just hang out up there until I get back. You and Louis should be fine."

"It's not us that I'm worried about."

"I need to do this, Zoey. I just...I have some things to take care of..." Francis pressed his hand against the cigarette in his pocket, "I have to get away from this God damned bridge. Gotta clear my head, you know?"

Zoey pursed her lips and nodded in understanding. She then tossed down Francis's health kit to the biker, along with a carefully horded granola bar.

A loud rumble released itself from Ellis's stomach at the mere sight of the bar, and the boy looked away in embarrassment.

"How many more of these do we have, Zoey?"

"Only two."

"Alright, then. Just keep them for yourselves," Francis then walked back over to Rochelle and Ellis, breaking his granola bar into three pieces as he spoke, "I'll split this one with you two. Sorry, but it's the best I can offer. I have to look out for my guys first."

"That's fine. Thank you," Rochelle graciously took her piece.

Ellis nodded eagerly and after Francis had taken the middle piece, he handed Ellis the wrapper along with his piece.

The three of them had rested for only a few minutes before the mechanic insisted that they move on to catch up to Coach and Nick. The adrenaline was tricking his body into thinking that he had boundless energy, and he tried to stand up and run towards the office building.

"Ellis you need to slow down and stay calm," Rochelle commanded, grabbing the boy's arm when he nearly fell over. She placed a hand to his chest and bit her lip, concerned about his raging heart rate.

"Oh shit, there's bathrooms in here!" Ellis shouted as they made their way into the building.

The air had grown chilly, and the combination of being cold and soaking wet gave Ellis the extreme urge to urinate. He quickly disappeared into one of the bathrooms, and Rochelle followed suit into the other one. Francis stood guard outside, and when they had finished, they made their way up the stairs- checking the rooms for any sign of the other men.

"Ugh, have a look at this." Rochelle had noticed the corpse of a middle aged man slumped on a chair in front of a computer monitor. His skin was pale and ashen, but his body was surprisingly devoid of wounds, aside from a festering puncture on the side of his neck.

"Aw man! You were right, Francis! Looks like vampires are real after all!" Ellis made his way over to the corpse and observed the bite wound with an odd grin on his face.

"Well of course vampires are real," Francis replied as they continued through the building, "That's what I've been saying this whole time."

Ellis nodded excitedly and broke off into a rapid ramble.

"Yeah, there's got ta' be all sorts a' unexplained shit out there, man, like aliens, swamp monsters, dragons, unicorns, mummies, ghosts, trolls, werewolves, elves, the Loch Ness monster, leprechauns, all sorts a' cool shit, man, an' this one time my buddy Keith an' I went out in the woods lookin' for Bigfoot an' although we didn't see nothin' we sure as hell heard some creepy gruntin' sounds an' Keith had the bright idea of throwin' sticks into the bushes when we heard the noises- ta' rile 'im up ya' know- an' well whatever was lurkin' in the bushes started ta' throw stuff back! Keith was hit by a boulder the size of-"

"Sweetie, you need to breathe," Rochelle stated as she grabbed Ellis by the shoulders, "Besides, we don't have time for this right now. You can finish your story later, okay?"

"Okay."

"And anyway," Rochelle added, "I'm pretty sure that guy was bitten by a Hunter or something, not a vampire."

"Well aren't you a spoilsport!" Francis replied with a grin.

Rochelle smirked at the biker but continued hurriedly towards the back door of the office building and into the cobblestone parking lot. They were greeted to a carpet of corpses upon stepping foot outside.

"Holy shit!" Ellis shouted.

"Well, we know they at least made it this far..." Rochelle sighed worriedly and found herself examining the bodies until Francis noticed a trail of more dead zombies leading away from the destroyed horde. They followed the trail up and around the winding lot until it eventually petered out in front of the small apartment complex. The head of a Jockey was hanging from one of the exterior light posts just outside the door to the last apartment. It was suspended by a long strip of bloodied, white fabric, looped through the bullet holes in the skull.

"I'd like to meet the sick fucker who did this," Francis stated quietly, observing the macabre creation.

"Oh, you already did. Nick, the cranky guy in the suit," Ellis responded. The boy had grown to recognize the fine, merino wool despite it being covered in viscera.

"Right, right...how could I forget about him..."

"Coach! Nick! Open up!" Rochelle shouted as she knocked on the barricaded door.

Shuffling could be heard from within as the two men removed the furniture from against the door and opened it.

"Thank God you're alright!" Coach pulled Rochelle towards him and placed the palm of his hand tenderly against her cheek.

"You guys remember Francis, right?" Rochelle motioned to the biker, "You can thank him as well."

"Yeah, Nick," Ellis patted Francis on the shoulder, "This guy is a hero. He saved my life. I almost died an-"

"For fuck's sake, Overalls! _Again_?" Nick grabbed Ellis and walked the boy over to the other side of the room.

Worried about the two remaining members of his group, Francis urged everyone to get moving, but relented when he found himself outvoted by the others who were in desperate need of a rest. While Nick tended to Ellis, the others searched every dark corner for the presence of any nightmarish house guests, and re-barricaded themselves within the apartment as best they could.

"So, you know where we're headed, right?" Rochelle asked Francis as Coach began tending to the cuts and bruises on her back.

"Well...yeah. Pretty sure. I mean we were running for our lives but I got a pretty good look at the scenery. There's a park not too far from here that my crew and I ran past on our way to the bridge. We should probably head that way."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Yep. I won't steer you wrong, babe."

Rochelle winced as Coach pressed a cotton ball soaked in alcohol against a particularly large cut.

"Do you really have to call me that?" she asked.

"Aw come on, how can I not?" Francis leaned back, eying her up and down as he spoke, "I mean, you _are_ a babe. Just look at you. You're hot!"

"Yeah, I'm hot alright," the girl smirked, "A hot _mess. _Boy, I am exhausted, cranky, and covered in blood, mud, and zombie brains. Tell me what exactly is so attractive about that?"

"Everything!" Francis replied with an enormous grin as he edged closer to her.

"Mister, you better back the hell up before I-" Coach abruptly ended his threat when Rochelle shot him a strange look.

"Oh, shit!" Francis turned to Coach and placed a hand on the older man's shoulder, "You're her father, aren't you? Well I assure you, I'm a _really_ nice guy once you get to know me. I'll treat your daughter with the utmost respect. Promise."

"I am _not _her father!" Coach huffed, clearly annoyed.

"Well good, cuz you scared the shit out me. Now where were we, babe?" Francis turned once more to Rochelle but did a quick double take, "Hold on a sec. Are you two _together_, then?"

Coach thanked the good Lord that his skin was too dark for him to blush as everyone stared at him.

"Well we-"

"We're not together."

Coach felt his chest tighten at Rochelle's words. She spoke the truth. They technically weren't together, but that didn't stop his heart from sinking and he became quiet.

"Care to explain to me why is it that whenever I'm not around, you end up having near-death experiences?" Nick grumbled as he pulled Ellis's shirt off.

"Aw, come on!" Ellis folded his arms, and a rather large frown formed on his face, "It's not like I'm helpless without you, Nick."

"Oh, no?" The conman squinted as he observed Ellis's back. The boy's wounds had noticeably improved since the last time he had seen them, but his skin was covered in a dirty film, "What the fuck is- you fell in the fucking river, didn't you?"

"Well Jesus Christ, Nick! I didn't fall. I jumped in."

Nick sighed heavily as he flushed the grime away from Ellis's skin.

"I had ta' try an' save Ro. No need ta' get all pissed off at me!"

"I'm not pissed off, Ellis. But it sure sounds like you are." Nick cupped Ellis's chin and lifted it so that the boy's eyes met his own.

Ellis quickly lowered his eyes and stared at the hand holding his chin for a moment before pulling himself away.

"I'm jus'," Ellis wiped his forehead, his voice cracking slightly, "I'm jus' really tired, alright?"

The group began searching for places to lay their weary bodies. Fortunately, the building was rather large, with several rooms that allowed for a bit of privacy. Rochelle took one of the small bedrooms on the ground floor, and Coach made his way into the bedroom down the hall.

Francis sprawled out on a couch in the den area, staring up at the ceiling with his arms crossed. With the memory of Bill still fresh and horribly raw on his mind, the biker knew he wouldn't find sleep any time soon.

Nick and Ellis went up to the second floor, and although there were two bedrooms, Nick quickly pulled Ellis into his room and locked the door.

Rochelle sighed heavily as she made her way across her dark, tiny room and sat down gingerly on the creaky, twin sized mattress. She placed her AK-47 on a desk next to the digital alarm clock. She sighed once more upon seeing the ungodly hour displayed in a blaring, red glow. It was the only working clock in the building, and as such, it was her job to rouse the rest of the group when the allotted two hours was up. She stared at the numbers as they slowly changed and tried to remember what day it was, along with the specific date.

_Three days..._

After setting the alarm, she untied her hair and gave it a quick shake before rubbing one of her shoulders with her hand. Now that she had a relatively safe moment to herself, the girl was quickly realizing how sore and tender her muscles were. She began thinking about her boyfriend as she continued to rub her shoulder, and wished that he were still alive- if only to feel his large, warm hands on her back. Truthfully, their relationship had been at an all-time low before the infection broke, and she had dragged him down to her big news break in Savannah in hopes of kindling their feelings for one another in between production and her time on the set. After releasing her aching feet from their booted prison, she turned away from the harsh light of the alarm clock.

"Three days." She voiced the words out loud this time before sighing and slowly lowering herself onto her side.

* * *

Ellis stood by the door as he watched Nick inspect their room's full sized bed. After regarding it clean enough, the conman sat down on the mattress and peeled off his jacket, shirt, and shoes before sprawling onto his back.

"You just gonna stand there, Overalls? Cuz if I remember correctly, you were pretty eager to crawl into bed with me the last time." Nick smiled devilishly before yawning and scratching at his broad chest- dusted with a light covering of hair.

Ellis shook his head slowly before making his way over to the bed.

_I jus' don't know what ta' make a' you..._

The mechanic flicked on the small lamp next to the bed, which caused a small groan of protest from the conman.

"Is that really necessary, Ellis?"

"I feel more comfortable with it on. I know what you're thinkin', and no, I ain't scared of the dark. It's jus'...can't be too careful is all."

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Nick asked, his brow furrowed as he rubbed his temples.

"What do you mean? Nuthin's wrong," the slightest bit of annoyance in the boy's tone betrayed him, and Nick picked up on it instantly.

"I don't know about that. You seem a little off. Moody, if I dare say? I didn't think that was possible, actually."

Ellis sighed as he removed his hat and placed it on the nightstand. He then pulled off his shirt and began fidgeting with the straps of his overalls. It was way too muggy to rest comfortably with them on, so he removed them- along with his boots- and allowed his clothing to drop into a messy pile next to the bed. Clad in nothing but his plaid boxers, Ellis lowered himself onto the bed with his back to the conman. The adrenaline's false high had long since worn off, and its absence- combined with an empty stomach- caused the boy's energy level to plummet. He was beyond exhausted and began nodding off almost instantly upon closing his eyes.

Nick observed as the young man's breathing quickly began to slow to a deeper, steadier rhythm. He was unsatisfied that Ellis hadn't given him any sort of proper answer, but decided to drop the matter. As Nick rolled onto his stomach, his favorite sleeping position, a searing wave of pain pulsated across his skull. It was so intense that it made him nauseous.

"Agh," The small noise of discomfort that he couldn't help but produce was barely above a whisper, and yet it was enough to rouse the mechanic.

"What's wrong?" Ellis demanded, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.

"I'll tell you as soon as you tell me."

"God damn it, Nick! I'm fine. Now what's the matter?"

Nick's eyes narrowed at the stress in Ellis's voice.

"My fucking head is about to explode," he relented quietly.

The boy's expression instantly softened, "Show me where it hurts," he whispered.

Nick sat up and pointed to a spot on the back of his head.

"It starts here and spreads out everywhere," he hissed as another wave of pain did just that.

Ellis wordlessly crawled over so that he was sitting behind Nick and gently placed his hands on the sides of the older man's head. With his palms covering Nick's ears, Ellis pressed both of his thumbs into the spot where Nick's neck met the base of his skull and began rubbing in slow, circular motions.

Nick's head lowered slightly. He closed his eyes and let out a long, throaty sigh. The pain slowly but surely began to subside, replaced by a wondrously numbing tingle with every swirl of Ellis's thumbs.

"Feel better?" The mechanic inquired after a few minutes.

"Yeah. _Hell,_ yeah... Now if you could just keep doing this- _forever_- I'll be all set," Nick murmured, his eyes still closed.

With his thumbs still pressed against the back of the conman's head, Ellis removed his palms from Nick's ears and placed the four remaining fingers of each hand on Nick's temples. He began moving his fingers in the same, slow circular motions.

"Oh, shit..." Nick nearly slumped over from how good it felt as all of his tension melted away.

Ellis proceeded to massage the entirety of Nick's skull, applying gentle but steady pressure to the man's nape, crown, and forehead with the heels of his palms.

Eventually, the older man did slump backwards into Ellis's chest, forcing the mechanic's back to press against the bed's headboard. Nick's euphoria ended when Ellis became too uncomfortably hot from their combined body heat.

"Alright, Nick. I think that's enough for now. 'Asides, like I said, I'm damn tired."

The conman opened his eyes and reluctantly lifted himself up. As he wiped the thin layer of sweat accumulating on his brow, he noted that his hands weren't nearly as pale as they had been earlier.

"I'll tell you when it's enough. Now turn around." Nick's eyes were bright, his grin sly.

"Aw, come on-" before Ellis could protest, the conman had flipped him over and he found himself lying on his stomach- his head partially buried in the pillow.

"Nick! What in the hell are you- _oooooh_..." Ellis nearly melted into the bed as Nick began smoothing his hands across his shoulder blades before gliding them ever so slowly down the mechanic's v-shaped back. His healing skin had become rather itchy, and with Nick's hands now providing him with wave upon wave of much needed relief, Ellis wondered how he had been able to tolerate the discomfort for so long. He shivered when Nick's hands passed along the sides of his ribs, eliminating the oppressive heat he had been experiencing as goosebumps danced across his skin. As a final touch, Nick pressed his elbow's into Ellis's lower back. The mechanic cried out rather loudly as Nick managed to work out every last knot and kink.

"Feel better?" Nick asked, mimicking the mechanic's question, but his brows furrowed at Ellis's response.

"Gettin' there..."

* * *

The rain continued steadily when the group of five finally exited the apartment and headed out into the streets. None of them had rested adequately, but all agreed that they should move on.

"Oh shit," Nick whispered, catching sight of a small easel sign lying in front of a gated park. Elegant, intricately illustrated flowers framed the words 'Wedding Here.'

Ellis briefly glanced at Nick as they entered the park, and the mechanic's eyes narrowed when a zombie in a formal, green dress rushed towards him. Ellis shot it in the head, sending the creature down to the ground in front of him.

"Well nice," Coach looked around at the stringed lights bobbing and swaying in the increasing wind, "I hope the buffet was spared."

The number of formally attired infected increased the further into the park they walked, and the rows of white lawn chairs in the distance gleamed under the occasional flash of lightning.

"What's the matter, Nick?" Rochelle asked, noticing the strange look in the conman's eyes.

"This is bringing back some memories," he stated, catching the sound of a low, mournful wail.

"What, you're married?" the girl gawked.

"Well I _was_. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Oh, I don't know, Nick," Rochelle stated sarcastically before laughing quietly.

Nick scoffed but otherwise remained silent.

"Well come on now, you've got me curious," the girl insisted and fell back to stand next to him, "What kind of girl stole the conman's icy heart? If you don't mind me asking."

"I kind of _do_ mind." The conman sighed, his voice was rather glum and subdued.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Nick," Rochelle fidgeted with the gold bracelets around her wrist, "I don't mean any harm. It's just...we know so little about you."

Again, Nick's hair had fallen down over his eyes, but he didn't bother to smooth it back this time.

"She was a great girl, really. Funny, intelligent, and with the patience of a saint, she had all the qualities of the perfect wife. To top it off, she was gorgeous. Blue eyes, brown hair-soft and kind of curly- and God did she have a full set of lips."

"Was she as pretty as Zoey, Nick?" Ellis grunted as he whirled around and forcefully shoved the butt of his rifle into an approaching zombie groomsman's face.

"_What_?"

"I said, was she as pretty as Zoey?" When the zombie began to rise, the mechanic kicked it twice before blasting a hole through its chest, "You remember Zoey, right? She was that angel we met back on the bridge."

"Ellis, don't interrupt Nick," Rochelle scolded, "He's trying to tell us a story."

"What?" The boy seemed genuinely offended, "Now, how many times have _I _been interrupted when tryin' ta' tell a story? Aw, forget this, man!" Ellis huffed and quickly limped ahead to join Coach and Francis.

Rochelle turned back to look at Nick, but the conman had a distant look on his face as he continued to stare at the ground.

"I should have never proposed to her in the first place. I was lying to her from the beginning." Nick's voice was so quiet that Rochelle had to stand close enough for her arm to brush against his to hear Nick above the rain.

"Hey you guys, hurry up!" Francis shouted. He, Coach, and Ellis were already approaching the lawn chairs.

"I guess I thought she could...change me," Nick mumbled, wiping his forehead as he turned away. Rochelle took a step back, slightly in shock, at how utterly dejected the man looked. She couldn't help but pity him, so she quickly grabbed Nick and pulled him into a hug. The conman looked down at her with wide eyes, his arms slightly raised- unsure of what to do with them. He then wrapped them around her back and soon found himself resting his chin on her head.

"There's no girl in the world that can change you, Nick," Rochelle's words were slightly muffled, her face pressed against his chest, "Believe me, I've tried to change all of my past boyfriends."

Rochelle broke the hug, but her hands still gripped his arms and she looked up at him with a small smile.

"Sweetie, if you're unhappy with yourself, then _you're_ the only person who can change you."

Nick looked down at her with a small smile of his own. Although she had not fully understood the depths of what he had meant, the conman was far too embarrassed to explain any further.

"Thanks, Rochelle..." Nick scratched the back of his head awkwardly and chuckled softly, "I have officially become a little bitch, haven't I?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you're using the same ridiculous pet name on me that you use on Ellis."

* * *

The mechanic stared at the unholy creature that knelt on the ground next to the altar in front of a gazebo. A brooding demon, her gray flesh shining like alabaster beneath the dim lights, rocked slowly from side to side. Her narrow shoulders rose and fell with every deep breath, and an occasional trembling moan would escape her ravaged throat. Her tattered dress was covered in a vile concoction of gelatinous, congealed blood, muddy soil, and excrement. As she shifted her weight, a lace garter became visible, wrapped midway down her bony thigh. A long, translucent veil flowed down from its placement atop her silver, elegantly tied hair. Aside from the twin orbs of sinister light that pierced through the thin material, the veil obscured the entirety of her face.

Ellis took a step back, grimacing as he caught sight of her wicked, astonishingly long, black talons. The boy's stomach turned when he noticed the body of a handsome, young man on the ground next to her. A large slash wound had shredded his black tuxedo, and had nearly split the man in half, exposing every bone and organ in his torso. The Witch threaded her talons between her groom's ribcage and lifted him up, his intestines spilling onto the ground around them. Her veil parted as she threw her head back, revealing her terrifying skeletal features. She let out an otherworldly screech and pressed her husband's corpse against herself, his blood and internal fluids drenching her body. The bride continued crying, even as she proceeded to tear the flesh off his face with her teeth, swallowing eagerly between sobs.

"Jesus Christ..." Ellis whispered. He lifted his sniper rifle shakily and held the scope lens up to his eye, aiming directly at the side of her skull.

"Hold on a sec," Coach whispered as he treaded carefully towards the mechanic, "I do _not_ think we should be triflin' with that thing."

"I'm sure we can take it down, Coach. We jus' all gotta shoot it at the same time and-"

"Kid, step the fuck back!" Francis whispered hoarsely upon joining them. He pulled Ellis towards him by the back of his shirt, "Don't you know what that thing is?"

"Nah, I ain't never seen anythin' like that 'afore."

"That thing can rip you apart with one swipe. It's just not worth confronting her."

Once Nick and Rochelle had joined them, Francis advised sneaking around the Witch. However, the park seemed to bottleneck around the gazebo, and combined with the intricate topiary of the bushes, moving stealthily around the Witch would prove to be exceedingly difficult. They had all decided to make their way past her one at a time.

Coach insisted on leading by going first, and he slowly crept towards the gazebo- his heavy footsteps masked by the increasing rain. The man was too large to squeeze through the ornamental bushes, so he decided that he would scale the railing of the gazebo. The Witch stopped consuming her husband's face at Coach's approach. The man watched as she began slowly lowering the corpse back onto the ground, her breathing becoming more rapid. Although she wasn't facing Coach, the man knew that she could sense him getting closer.

Coach stopped where he was and crouched as low to the ground as his knee would allow. Francis had told him that the Witch would only allow him to approach so far before becoming disturbed, and he wiped the sweat from his eyes as the Witch resumed crying, though she did not continue her feast. The man turned his head quickly and could see the rest of his team observing him anxiously. Francis had his shotgun ready, and next to him, Ellis still had his sights aimed at the Witch's head.

Reassured, Coach cautiously tapped the ground with his own shotgun, indicating to the others the closest spot in which he could linger without disturbing the creature. He then circled slowly along the edge of the Witch's personal radius, and cautiously scaled the gazebo's railing. His actions illicited a series of growls from the Witch, far deeper and louder than what would have been expected, but Coach managed to move past her before the full extent of the creature's anger could blossom into fruition.

Rochelle followed shortly after Coach, mimicking his actions. Once she had made it, Francis took his turn. The Witch had grown more and more agitated with each passing survivor, and when it came time for Nick and Ellis to make their way around her, the two men had to wait quite a while for the creature to calm down. The ferocity of the storm had grown to rival that of the Witch the longer they waited.

"That dress...the crying...damn, that thing sounds just like her..." Nick whispered.

"Oh yeah? Well I'm gettin' real sick a' that damn cryin'," Ellis whispered back. He turned to look Nick in the eye. A smirk formed across the boy's lips as he spoke slowly, emphasizing every word.

"I think I could take 'er on. _She_ ain't nuthin' special..."

"Ellis, shut the fuck up. We're going around her and that's that."

The boy shook his head slowly, his eyes narrowing as they fell on the weeping Witch once more.

"Of course you wouldn't want ta' shoot 'er. Cuz she-" Ellis muttered the rest under his breath and Nick could not hear him above the wind until he shouted, "Alright then, let's do this!"

"Hold on a second, Overalls. We have to-" Before he could finish, Ellis grabbed Nick's hand and laced his finger's tightly between the conman's before yanking him forward.

"Ellis, seriously! What the fuck is wrong with you?" Nick staggered as Ellis nearly dragged him down the aisle, straight towards the Witch.

The she-demon snarled, her eyes glowing brighter at the sight of the two men rapidly approaching her.

"I DO!" the boy shouted as he and Nick ran past the altar and jumped over the startled Witch at the last second.


	13. Chapter 13

Ellis sailed over the Witch. The natural adrenaline surging through him masked the pain in his ankle. He would have landed cleanly on the deck of the gazebo were it not for Nick, who had pulled his knees up as closely to his torso as possible to avoid hitting the snarling creature with his legs. He landed messily, falling onto his side. This caused Ellis, who was still holding his hand tightly, to fall on top of him.

The Witch began hyperventilating as she rose to her feet. Her claws sliced the air as she clenched and unclenched her fists in fury. Ellis clamored off Nick and reached for his sniper rifle, but his heart skipped a beat upon realizing the weapon was no longer strapped to his back.

The Witch arched her spine, rearing back while filling her lungs to the brim with air. Nick recovered from the fall and aimed his machine gun at the creature's emaciated form. As he pressed the trigger, the Witch released an astounding screech that seemed to rend the air around them.

His heart quickly filling with panic, Ellis jumped to his feet, desperate to get away from the mind-numbing sound. He stumbled and leaned against one of the gazebo's columns. His vision blurred, but he could see that the Witch was still screaming. The putrid gust of her horrible breath wafting against his face and assaulting his nostrils was proof of that, but the boy could no longer hear her. He could no longer hear _anything_ past the loud ringing in his ears.

Nick emptied his entire clip into the Witch, his own ears aching from the aural assault, but he decided to forgo reloading upon seeing how disoriented Ellis had become. The conman grabbed the boy and pulled him to the ground as the Witch took her first swipe. Her claws raked forward at an unimaginable speed, slashing through the support column where Ellis had stood. The mechanic could see that Nick was screaming at him, but he was still unable to hear anything as they scrambled away from the gazebo- whose roof collapsed behind them- burying the Witch beneath the heavy dome. Before the two men could catch their breath, the she-demon punched a hole through the concrete structure and lunged at them.

Coach and the others had looked on in horror when Ellis inexplicably charged towards the Witch, and at the sound of her scream, the remaining infected became agitated and swarmed them. The sky was now releasing a deluge of water from the swelling thunderhead clouds above, and the visibility had suffered so grievously that the zombies could no longer be seen until they were already upon them.

Hampered by his bandaged eye, Coach opted to forgo his shotgun for fear of striking one of his teammates in the driving rain. He began swinging his golf club in a wide arch directly in front of him. He could hear Rochelle from her now familiar position at his blind side, aiding the man's diminished depth perception by informing him of the number and approximate range of the approaching infected. To Coach's right, Francis held his own with his shotgun.

The biker had managed to kill a Witch with a single head shot on one occasion, and it had been one of the most unnerving experiences of his life. Now, as the three of them slowly pushed through the horde on their way to the demolished gazebo, Francis steeled himself in preparation, hoping that he could pull off the daring feat once more. He was jarred from his thoughts by the sound of Coach crying out, and his chest tightened upon realizing that the zombies were now overwhelming the older man's blind side because Rochelle was no longer there to protect it.

The girl had vanished.

"Holy shit! Where's Rochelle?" Francis screamed, his words nearly drowned out by the roaring, wind driven sheets of rain.

"Fuck! I don't know!" Coach's golf club was now a blur of gleaming silver as he whirled it about in a state of sheer panic. He nearly struck Francis several times with the follow through of his ferocious, forceful swings.

At the last moment, Nick and Ellis scrambled away from one another in opposite directions. As the Witch landed on the spot where the two of them had been, she darted her head wildly to the left and right. Due to her frenzied actions, her hair- as long and luxurious as it had been before succumbing to the infection- had loosened from its elegant ties and obscured her face like a white, pin straight curtain. She hesitated for the slightest moment, watching as both men ran behind different open buffet tents. Because they both had ignited her fury, the Witch was unsure of who to destroy. After taking one step in Nick's direction, she felt the sting of pistol fire on her back and neck. She snarled and whipped around to see the young mechanic waving his arms at her before ducking behind the tent. Her mind fully made up now, the Witch sprinted towards him with the speed of a greyhound.

Ellis was panting heavily as he gripped both of his pistols in his slick, rain-soaked grip. He crouched on one knee to alleviate the pressure from his bad ankle and waited for the Witch to emerge from around the corner of the tent. He knew he was is deep shit, knew that pistols would do little to stop this monstrosity, but he would try nonetheless. His hearing was still shot, so he could not detect the Witch's approach with his ears, nor could he sense the deep gurgles of a Boomer waddling towards him from behind. Although his eyes were peeled at the spot where he believed the Witch would emerge, he caught a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye and leapt backwards as the she-demon burst through the tent, shredding the tarp material with her claws.

Ellis fired and retreated as rapidly and he could, careful to aim at her head as the Witch circled towards him once more. He reloaded his pistols while running backwards, careful not to take his eyes off her. Before he could fire again, she sprung into the air and came down towards him with outstretched talons. Ellis tried to dodge, but found himself bouncing off a soft, rotund surface. He stumbled to the ground and managed to roll as the Witch landed inches away from him, driving her talons halfway into the muddy soil from the force of her impact. Ellis scrambled away on his hands and knees as the Witch struggled to remove her claws from the mud. The boy looked up to see a Boomer lying on its back, its arms and legs flailing about. He had knocked the bloated beast off balance when he collided into it, and it was struggling to lift its massive body back up.

Francis tried to make his way over to Coach's blind side, but the infected were swarming them with such gusto that it was nearly impossible to move. He dug his boots into the ground and began to filter out the hectic, chaotic noise that threatened to overwhelm him.

Francis had gotten good at doing this- tuning out anything that wasn't important. He bashed in the face of an elderly woman, taking one step towards Coach. He shoved the barrel of his shotgun into the neck of teenage boy, closing his eyes for a split second to prevent the putrid blood from entering them as it splashed across his face, and took another step towards Coach. He elbowed a man his age in the gut, using the force of his muscular body to shove the creature away. It was then that he realized that despite his steady efforts, he was not getting any closer to the older man. Apparently Coach was moving away from him through the crowd of zombies in his search for Rochelle.

"Hey, man! Wait up!"

Whether Coach had heard him or not above the howls and screams, Francis wasn't sure. The biker could hear the Witch screeching like harpy somewhere in the gloom, but there was little he could do besides follow Coach in his desperate search for the girl through the blinding rain.

The Witch's feet barely made contact with the ground once she freed her claws from the muddy earth. Her approach was so swift that Ellis had little time to react. He moved directly in front of the beached Boomer, and as the hefty zombie prepared to vomit, Ellis jumped over it. The stream of bile covered the Witch, slowing her down for a fraction of a second as she wiped her eyes with the back of her palm. She shrieked in outrage and punched a hole through the beast's belly. It erupted, drenching the Witch once more and covering Ellis with a layer of bile.

As he crouched beside a barbecue grill near one of the buffet tents, Nick observed the chaos taking place before him. He could see Ellis- the Witch was nearly on top of him now. The conman had used up an entire clip on the emaciated and seemingly frail zombie to no good effect. He had to try something else.

Nick fished through his pockets, cursing himself as he tossed aside the expensive Habano cigars that still managed to find refuge within them. He found his lighter, and with a large metal meat skewer he procured from the buffet table, he dashed into the driving rain. He cupped the fragile flame to protect it as he held it up to the end of the skewer, and as the Witch prepared to eviscerate Ellis with one swipe, Nick launched the meat skewer at her. It's heated tip missed her spinal cord by an inch, and buried itself into her liver. Her screams of agony were indescribable as the Witch felt the burning metal pierce her deeply. All thoughts of the little mechanic were abandoned, and she wanted nothing more than to bathe in the blood of the man in the white suit.

Ellis took the opportunity to fire at the Witch with his pistols as she veered away from him and headed towards Nick with twice as much fury as before. The conman turned to run, but his breath was momentarily taken away at the sight of the tsunami of infected rushing towards him. He swerved and dodged as best he could as they shoved and flowed around him. They descended upon the bile-covered Witch, swallowing her up completely.

Ellis tried to join Nick, but half of the newly formed horde had broken off and was now surrounding him. He pushed through them, using his pistols to slowly blaze a path. Nick was no more than twenty feet away from him, but he might as well have been miles away. The boy still could not hear anything above the ringing in his ears, a fact that he was now grateful for as he stared into the horribly contorted faces that he shot with his pistols. He weaved amidst the frenzied infected, shooting as many as he could, and shoving with all of his might against those that he could not. At five feet, seven inches in height, Ellis couldn't exactly plow through the horde with ease. Reaching Nick was going to take monumental effort, but the mechanic was willing to do anything to stand by the other man's side and take down the Witch together.

He quickly glanced over his shoulder to note the Witch's location. Despite the horde's vastness, she wasn't exactly difficult to spot. Ellis could see flashes of silver hair and glistening, blood-drenched claws. Additionally, the severed heads, limbs, and torsos shooting through the air along her path was another indication of her whereabouts. She seemed to dance and swoop almost gracefully amidst the carnage, eviscerating and desiccating everything foolish enough to stand in her way.

Although Ellis had a lead on the Witch in their race to reach Nick, and the horde was attacking- or attempting to attack- the bile covered banshee as best they could, she was still gaining on him. Ellis did have one thing on his side, though. Nick was firing at the zombies on his end, thinning their numbers and making it easier for Ellis to reach him.

The boy and the Witch were neck and neck, and he could see the way she lusted for the conman. He wasn't going to let her have him.

Ellis dove beneath the zombies' legs, rolling onto his back as he slid forward. He could feel the horde kicking at his ribs, but he focused only on rustle of expensive fabric against the mesh of his hat as his head bumped against Nick's shins. The Witch let out a frustrated cry upon reaching the two men. She wanted to kill both of them so badly, but the chaotic insanity-and the lead bullets- pelting her confused brain caused her to hesitate, but only for a split second.

She drove her talons down towards the mechanic at her feet.

Francis caught sight of a lurid form flowing like dark liquid through the crowd of sopping infected. It leapt atop their backs and heads, driving the hapless zombies down to the ground with the weight of its body in a meandering yet purposeful path towards him. The Hunter let out a snarl and lunged at Francis, sending a slew of bodies tumbling on top of him. The biker thrashed and rolled, fighting to control his mounting distress as he lay pinned beneath a zombified pile up. He could feel the Hunter slashing its way through his living shield from its position at the top, digging and shredding through their bodies on its way down to him.

Francis didn't know how many corpses separated him from the Hunter's claws, but he could hear the eager, desperate grunts and feel the crushing weight on his chest from the force of the hooded ghoul's muffled strikes. Francis's shotgun was all but lost amidst the maelstrom of zombies, and the only thing he could do was strangle the life out of the creatures directly on top of him, if only to keep them from sinking their fetid teeth into his neck.

"Coach! I'm down!"

There was really no sense in shouting for help. With the zombies compressing his lungs, the biker could not project his voice at maximum volume. Even if he could, the horde's raucous uproar was now so deafening that still no one would be able to hear him. No one.

With the savage rain striking his face with as much brutality as the zombies, Francis thought about giving up at that moment.

He also thought about Bill.

Was the old man looking down at him from up above as he lay alone and drowning in a sea of infected bodies?

Was Bill shaking his head, ashamed that his sacrifice was for nothing?

He should have never left Zoey and Louis. What was he even doing here? Why had he left the safety of the bridge in the first place? Was settling an old score worth risking his life?

Francis closed his eyes, ignoring the pain as he sank into himself. Gradually, he was able to tune everything out.

Everything but a familiar scream rising above the dulled chaos.

The Witch froze in place, her eyes wide with confusion and pain, before lurching backwards. She felt a horrific tug as every nerve ending in her skull screamed almost as loudly as she did. Ellis looked up in awe to see Rochelle, who had emerged from the deluge, with every last strand of the Witch's hair locked in a vice-like grip.

"There's only room for one bad ass bitch around here!" The girl dug her heel into the small of the Witch's back while continuing to pull savagely at her hair. The monster shrieked, her head and neck craned back so far that Rochelle could feel the heat of the burning eyes glaring up at her from the snarling upside-down face.

"Get away from here! She's after the two of you!" the girl screamed as she struggled to hold the rabid creature back. Although she outweighed the waif-like Witch, the infected's strength was extraordinary.

The creature pushed forward, slashing madly as Nick dragged Ellis away from her. Rochelle had no choice but to lift both of her legs off the ground, kicking them into the Witch's back as she yanked with all of her might at the creature's hair. The girl's boots drove the meatskewer deeper into the Witch's body and just before her grip on the rain-soaked hair slipped, large portions of the Witch's scalp suddenly gave way to the weight of Rochelle's body. The girl fell to the ground and the Witch was thrown forward.

The pressure on Francis's chest was slowly diminishing as the Hunter destroyed and shoved aside the bodies covering him. With only two corpses between him and the hooded zombie, and more infected swirling around him, the biker flinched as he felt a pair of large hands wrap around his ankles. They pulled him beneath the zombies and out the other side. Francis looked up to see Coach lifting him off the ground.

"Come on man! Get up! I can see the others!" Coach huffed, struggling to lift the solid, muscular man up. The Hunter abandoned its now fruitless excavation efforts and lunged at Coach. The older man dropped Francis and ducked. Although the Hunter sailed harmlessly over his head, the action caused a terrible strain on Coach's knee. He could feel his weakened ligaments stretching and let out a prayer to God that they wouldn't tear again. He puffed out his cheeks, releasing a forceful breath from his mouth. His tightly shut eyes were watering from the intense pain, which caused bloody tears to soak the bandages covering his injured eye.

At forty-four, Coach was not terribly old, but he had begun to feel the tell-tale inklings of age creeping up on him even before the world went to shit. His injured knee had merely served to speed up the process. The ex-athlete knew, from the moment he felt the career-shattering tear in his ACL on that fateful day on the field, that he would eventually succumb to crippling arthritis of the knee. Countless hospital visits and the diagnoses of unsympathetic physicians had cemented that fact. Ever since then, Coach had resented the passage of time whittling away at his body, and now, as he listened to the screeching Hunter surging towards him in mid-flight, Coach wondered if he would live to see the next sunrise- let alone true old age.

Coach opened his eyes and pulled his right arm back. While his lower body may have been weakened, and his waistline had increased by several inches, his upper body was just as powerful as the day he left the football field in an ambulance. Thrice weekly bench press and bicep curl sessions at the gym had seen to that.

With a mighty roar, the big man unleashed a punch so powerful that it shattered the Hunter's jaw and nearly lopped the creature's head off. Coach felt the force of the impact shoot down the length of his rigid arm and shoulder, but his bones were thick and resiliant.

"God damn...when I grow up, I want to be just like you!" Francis shouted with a smile. He seemed genuinely impressed as Coach lifted him up once more.

The older man smirked, choosing to take the biker's words for the complement that they were, and the two of them headed towards the others as quickly as they could.

Rochelle dove to the side and reached for her AK-47 as the nearly bald Witch careened towards her. The creature's outrage was palpable and her shrill scream was now continuous. She no longer stopped shrieking, not even to take a breath. The girl retreated, horrified that the monster could absorb so much damage. She took a springing leap backwards as the Witch swiped at her, but could not completely avoid the razor claws. Although Rochelle hit the ground hard, her fingers never left the trigger. She screamed out a battle cry as her bullets tore through the Witch.

Before descending upon the girl, the Witch let out a squawk when the thick bullet of a sniper rifle entered the her ear canal, annihilated her ear drum, and lodged itself into her brain. The monster staggered from the fierce impact, and another bullet pierced the back of her skull. With her equilibrium thoroughly destroyed, the Witch hit the side of a barbecue grill next to the buffet tent and collapsed into the mud.

Coach scooped the injured girl up and made his way towards Nick and Ellis, who were finishing off the remainder of the horde that had swamped the bile-covered mechanic.

Crouched on one knee a short distance away, Francis watched in disbelief as the Witch slowly lifted herself out of the mud- despite his deadly, well placed shots. He lifted the scope lens of Ellis's misplaced sniper rifle up to his eye and fired one last time. The bullet entered the barbecue grill's propane tank, triggering an explosion that ignited the interior of the buffet tent and launched the Witch twenty feet into the air. The creature hit the ground, rolled back onto her feet, and with her face buried in her palms, she took off with a limp away from the survivors as fast as she could.

* * *

"What the fuck were you thinking? Were you _even_ thinking?" Such were the first words that Ellis heard as the loud ringing in his ears slowly subsided. The conman was absolutely livid, and although Coach was equally upset at the boy, he was content to allow Nick to tear the kid a new one as he tended to Rochelle's wounds.

"I'm gonna...uh, gonna have to remove your shirt, Ro," Coach stated softly after clearing his throat.

Francis's eyes widened ever so slightly at the prospect- a fact that Rochelle immediately noticed. The girl narrowed her eyes in response to the biker's none-too-subtle ogling, but removed her shirt anyway. Although she would rather not expose herself in front of a room full of men, the girl knew better than to resist. A situation such as this was bound to happen sooner or later, and carrying on and making a scene was only going to drag it out for a truly uncomfortable duration of time.

"Just make it quick, please," She sighed.

Francis made no attempt to look away once the pink graphic tee was lifted off dark, caramel flesh. To the biker, there was no harm in merely observing the sight before him. His eyes were immediately drawn to the white lace of a bra partially concealed by the young woman's crossed arms. Although Rochelle had avoided the brunt of the Witch's attack, the creature's claws still managed to rake crimson gashes across her stomach that ran parallel just above and below a gold belly button piercing.

A bead of sweat trickled down Francis's forehead and he bit his lower lip as Coach moved in front of Rochelle. The older man turned to him, gave him a scowl of disapproval that clearly meant 'Back Off,' and was careful to conceal the girl behind his large frame before proceeding to disinfect her scratches and wrap gauze around her waist.

_You're one to talk, Coach...I'm not the one feeling her up... _

With nothing but Coach's backside to stare at, Francis turned his attention to Nick and Ellis.

"I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry!"

"I didn't ask for an apology! I asked, for a reason- a little insight into that thick skull of yours! You could have gotten us all killed!"

"I know. I jus'..." Ellis was fully aware that his actions had been beyond reckless and with the threat of imminent death momentarily abated, the boy's guilt was quickly becoming unbearable- made all the worse because he knew he had lost control of himself. He knew _exactly_ what had caused him to lose that control...and it frightened him.

"What could have possibly possessed you to do something so stupid, Overalls? Answer me!" Nick was growing more furious by the moment, his headache coming back with a vengeance.

The mechanic's eyes sank to the ground, his face flushing slightly under the conman's scrutinizing and unrelenting gaze. Ellis had always been a sweet boy. Although prone to partaking in bouts of occasional mischief with the ever hyperactive Keith, Ellis had rarely done anything worthy of true punishment. Combined with the fact that his mother tended to coddle him, Ellis was not used to being reprimanded so harshly. Needless to say, he wasn't handling it well.

"Why the fuck did you do it?" Suddenly Nick grabbed the boy by the shirt, lifted him up to eye level, and pressed him forcefully against the wall, "Nothing, huh? Not a peep? Not a single word? This is the same little bastard who never keeps his fucking yap shut! ANSWER ME, GOD DAMN YOU!"

Nick's headache was blazing with a fury that begged for release, and his breaths became feverishly rapid. For a fleeting moment, Ellis's downcast face, the cold stone wall to which he was firmly affixed, and the distorted hand that viciously held his shirt, had all turned an eerie shade of amber to the conman's vision before reverting back to normal. Nick blinked his eyes rapidly as he tried to process what had just occurred.

Ellis's own eyes were threatening to well up with tears, and he fought against them with all of his might. To cry in front of the awesome biker dude, who now stood over Nick's shoulder, was a thought that the boy simply could not bear.

"Hey man, enough. Lay off of him."

Nick released Ellis from his grip and seemed to brace himself against the wall for a moment before turning around to face Francis. He smoothed his hair back and took several deep breaths before responding.

"This does _not_ concern you." Nick's voice was now a wisp of smooth silk and icy venom.

"I'm part of this team- for the moment at least- so it does concern me." Francis stood his ground, unfazed by Nick's diminished aggression.

_This is not over, Ellis...I will get to the fucking bottom of this..._

After taking one last look at the boy, Nick stepped away from the both of them and made his way slowly towards the far corner of the room.

"That's it?" Francis scoffed, "I was expecting a little more fight out of you!"

"I have been _nothing_ but civil to you from the moment I walked away from the bridge," Nick stated as he removed his jacket- his back to the biker.

"But you haven't said two words to me since then."

"_Exactly_."

Nick was done with the conversation and he lowered himself onto the ground, faced the wall, and became silent.

Few words were exchanged after that. No one had to suggest spending the rest of the night within the safe room. After what they had just experienced, none of them were eager to continue roaming the treacherous streets until daybreak. All five settled down to rest, with sleep coming easier for some than others.

* * *

Francis was roused from a light sleep, not by the incessant mumbles and moans of the sinister creatures shambling amidst the dark alleyways just outside the door, but by the sound of stifled sobs and sniffling. He shifted onto his side and peered into the darkness.

"Hey kid," he whispered, which caused the sniffling to immediately stop, "You remind me of myself when I was younger...what you did back there...it was really, really stupid, but...don't beat yourself up over it. Alright?"

Upon receiving no response, Francis lowered himself back down and shifted a bit before falling back to sleep.

The sniffling eventually resumed, but much quieter than before.


	14. Chapter 14

..._Are you happy, Ellis?..._

_._

_._

_._

The young man rolled slowly onto his back, his unconscious mind powerless against the insidiously advancing tide of dark dreams. His legs kicked slightly, sending him to places he did not wish to go. His arms twitched and fingers clenched, performing unspeakable actions that made tears trickle from behind closed eyes. The boy's hat slipped off his head, and upon feeling it brush against his cheek, he instinctively reached for it, clutching it desperately as he called out for its lost owner.

"Keith...I'm a monster, Keith...I'm sor-" The sound of his own soft murmurs seemed to partially rouse Ellis from his fitful slumber. With eyes half open, the horrific vision of him tearing his beloved friend apart with his own hands was slowly replaced with the sight of the ceiling's peeling paint.

"I shoulda' been there for you," Ellis's voice cracked, his pitch high and trembling. The full weight of Keith's absence was straining the walls he had been building- walls that were supported by the stories he had been telling- of a bygone era, a golden age where Keith was king. By elevating his friend to the lofty heights of an untouchable, legendary ideal, Ellis had been covering the dark, hidden truths that threatened to break him and send him hurtling into a state of despair. He could feel the weight of it crushing his chest, so he rolled back onto his side. He could see Keith, lying alone within the auto shop as blazing smoke scorched his lungs with every helpless breath.

Ellis shut his eyes tightly and his free hand flew up to grasp a fistful of his tousled hair at the horrible, uncontrollable thought.

"I miss you so bad, Keith. I'm s-sorry I got mad at you at the club... an' s-stuck up my middle finger at you..." Ellis's sobs grew louder as the image of Keith's bloody face, deathly pale under the harsh sunlight atop the Vannah hotel, mercilessly implanted itself in his mind's eye.

"I'm sorry I won the bet. I shoulda' been the one ta' go ta' w-work that day. Not you...I never said goodbye...Never told you how much you m-meant ta' me... It's so hard not havin' you around anymore..." Ellis heaved in several deep breaths and willed himself to calm down upon hearing Nick shift slightly from the conman's position on the other side of the room. He continued to inhale deeply until his breaths stopped trembling and he held Keith's hat up to his face. Ellis had no idea what time it was, but there was just enough feeble light filtering through the bars of the door from a streetlamp outside to illuminate the cap's weathered form. He traced along the outline of its little tow truck logo with his finger. The comforting action brought him a slight sense of peace, and he produced a small smile upon successfully picturing Keith behind the wheel of the tiny vehicle.

"L-love ya', buddy..." Ellis whispered as he hugged the hat with all of his might. Regrettably, it no longer smelled like Keith- rather- it smelled more like himself, and a conglomeration of blood, bile, and oddly enough, Nick.

"Gotta take better care a' you," Ellis sighed deeply as he observed just how littered with filth the hat had become, but that didn't stop the boy from putting it back in its rightful place atop his head. He closed his eyes once more but a painful, sour feeling in his stomach kept him from falling back to sleep. With all of the nightmares he had been having, Ellis chose to count the discomfort as a small blessing, until his mind began to wander once more into its deepest corners, excavating the most atrocious, monstrous part of himself and bringing it screaming into the light.

The mutilated woman he had seen beneath the park bench- her crumpled form clinging desperately to her broken child- had affected Ellis more than he had realized, and had triggered a gut-wrenching feeling that now made breathing difficult.

As he lay hollow and haunted on the ground, his eyes began to water once more.

Surely he was a monster for what he had done...or rather, what he had failed to do...

For _her..._

Where was she now? Was she even alive?_  
_

Ellis nearly choked on a sob that he tried so desperately to control, but to no avail. Even now, he could see Rochelle awaken, and make her way to him through the darkness with her AK-47 in hand.

Before Ellis could apologize for waking the young woman up, she took him by the hand and led him up the stairs to the building's upper level, which consisted of nothing more than a bare, tiny, alcove-like room, illuminated only by dull streetlight ambiance through a tall window that was too narrow for anything to fit through. After closing the door behind them, Rochelle walked over to the window and took a quick look outside at the dark streets below them.

"It's stuffy in here," she remarked quietly, and upon realizing that the window could not be opened, she broke a small hole through the glass with her weapon. She then made her way to the center of the room and sat down on the floor, motioning for Ellis to sit next to her. He obliged and promptly removed his hat for two reasons: the moist breeze wafting in through the hole in the glass was pleasantly cool as it ruffled through his hair, and the hat also provided him with a distraction. He fidgeted with it as Rochelle stared at him in silence for a long, uncomfortable minute. The sounds of the storm possessed a rhythmic quality as they siphoned through the hole in wind driven bursts.

"I'm sorry, Ro." Although his voice was low and quiet, the girl still heard Ellis above the rain, "It was real stupid a' me ta' do what I did. You coulda' been seriously hurt or...or worse, an' I hope you're not hurtin' bad, an' I hope you can forgive me, an' it's okay if you're mad at me, an-"

Rochelle reached over and placed her hand on top of his, which promptly silenced the boy's nervous chatter and caused him to stop worrying his cap. He finally looked her in the eye with a pained expression.

The girl had been more than a bit confused and disappointed by Ellis's actions, and their subsequent consequences. The fact that she had taken the brunt of the Witch's fury left her frustrated, but she wasn't sure how to go about confronting Ellis and had instead allowed Nick to do what she herself wanted to avoid. That Ellis had been left in tears made it all the more difficult for her to ignore her motherly instincts and allow the boy to deal with his 'punishment.' She could have continued to watch from the sidelines, all the while hiding behind 'bad guy' Nick, but that wasn't her style.

Additionally, her woman's intuition was telling her that something else was at play behind the scenes. Although Ellis seemed to be a rather sensitive young man who took everything to heart, something else had to be wrong to make him cry through half the night.

"I forgive you, Ellis. Now, something's the matter-"

Ellis opened his mouth to speak, but Rochelle stopped him by pressing a finger to his lips.

"-And don't tell me otherwise because I won't believe it."

The boy sighed and bowed his head slightly.

"I'm jus' bummed out about Keith, is all."

"_And_..." Rochelle's eyes were dark pools that beckoned him to pour out all of his pain, "You may not want to talk to Nick about certain things, Ellis, but you don't have to be afraid with me. You can tell me anything. _Everything_."

Ellis bit his lip. He never liked confronting his problems, and they were the one thing that he actually _avoided_ talking about.

"Ellis..."

It was so much easier for him to dwell on the positive and ignore the negative...to push it all aside...bury it before it buried him.

"I..." Could he really tell her everything? Did he want to?

"Ellis, honey..."

No. But there was one thing that he felt he _could_ tell her.

"I...I miss my mom." The words trembled from his windpipe in a pained whisper as he lifted a hand to cover his face. Ellis would have given anything to stop himself from seeing those soulful eyes- a much brighter, clearer shade of blue than his own...the bouncing ringlets of her hair, two shades lighter and more tightly curled than his own.

"Oh _sweetheart,_" Rochelle pulled the boy into her arms and felt something akin to an icy knife twisting into her stomach as Ellis struggled to form sentences amidst his heartwrenching sobs.

"I try not ta' think about her...c-cuz whenever I do...it jus' _kills_ me! At least with Keith, I tried... I tried with all a' my heart ta' s-save him... but my mom...she... she was everything ta' me an'... I don't even know where she is...if she's even...if she's even _alive _or not! I jus'...I jus' _left_ her!"

"Sweetie, please...please don't say that," Rochelle tried to stay strong for the boy, but could not keep from crying herself, "There was nothing you could have done. We were doing all that we could just to survive. You'll see her again, both her and Keith. I just know you will."

"I shoulda' gone back for her! She was sick...Oh, God, she was _sick_! There ain't no way she coulda' made it outta' Savannah on 'er own! " Ellis broke away from Rochelle, and leaned heavily against the wall, "She's...she's dead, Ro...she's dead jus' like Keith..." Ellis emitted a terribly plaintive, mournful sound from the back of his throat.

Rochelle drew in a sharp breath.

"But, I thought you and your friends made it to the hotel's roof. To the helicopter...Keith and Dave made it aboard. That's what you-"

"Keith's dead. I...I jus' couldn't accept it. Even now, I can't...Keith ain't supposed ta' die...but he's gone. He died in my arms...'afore we even got to the roof... Jus' like that, he died in my arms."

"You said there was room for two. It could have been _you_ in that helicopter. You could have flown away with Dave."

"No...no, I told Dave ta' take care a' Keith," Ellis sniffed, "Like...take care a' his body or somethin'...I don't know. I was too upset. He was my best friend and I...I jus' couldn't leave 'im all alone on that roof, Ro! Ta' waste away...or get eaten...or... I jus' couldn't...I..." Ellis found it impossible to continue speaking, and Rochelle simply allowed him to cry into her shoulder until he had no tears left.

"I was always a momma's boy...a weakling. My dad always told me so," Ellis croaked.

Rochelle pursed her lips, "That's not true, Ellis. You're not weak."

"Aren't I? I mean damn, Ro, look at me! Blubberin' like a sissy. I'm fallin' apart."

"Ellis, this is your mother we're talking about. You'd be a heartless monster not to be emotional about her. The woman raised you. Loved you with all that she had. I'm sure she loved you from the moment she knew you were growing inside of her..."

"She told me that every chance she got...that she loved me. Even when I didn't deserve it. Like now."

"And why do you say that?"

"Cuz I _failed _her."

Rochelle sighed and shook her head.

"I'll say it again, Ellis. Things happened too fast. Savannah was overrun. We had to get out of there. There's nothing you could have done-"

"That's not what I meant." Ellis steadied himself before speaking at length, "A week 'afore this mess started, my mom called me up an' told me that she needed me ta' come home...said she needed my help. I was at a party that Keith insisted that I go to an'...an' I ended up havin' way too much ta' drink." Ellis's face seemed to darken as he bowed his head low, "I didn't want her ta' see me like that so I tried ta' avoid goin' home. I asked her if it was an emergency an' she said no...So when I got home the next mornin' an' I asked her what she had wanted, she avoided tellin' me. I had a bad feelin' about it, but I didn't think too much of it. Figured if somethin' was wrong, she woulda' told me. She ain't never kept no secrets from me, so I trusted her."

Ellis paused to wipe his brow.

"An' then she started gettin' sick...Again, I didn't think too much about it. I mean I took care of 'er, but I figured it was nuthin' serious and that she would get better. I even went out with Keith again on the last night I had with her...instead a' bein' with her. God, I shoulda' been there for her..."

Rochelle, who had been staring at the ground, looked up at the boy with a growing wariness in her eyes.

"She was _sick..._" The girl regretted the emphasis she had placed on the word, and wished more than anything that she could pull it back into her mouth- to keep it from striking the boy's ears like a sledgehammer.

Ellis suddenly covered his mouth with his hand- his eyes wide with horror, his heart threatening to shatter.

"Oh, God..." he whispered, his soul trembling at the thought of losing his mother to a fate worse than death, "She's...no. No! She can't be! She can't! That can't happen ta' her!"

"It hasn't!" There was such assurance- such power to Rochelle's voice that Ellis clung to her every word for dear life, "Wherever she is, she still wants what's best for you. You _will _see her again. Don't ask me how. Don't ask me when. Just believe it. You have to make it through this for her. You have to fight for her."

"I...I will."

"You still have a mother, Ellis..._No matter what_." The young woman smiled and stared into his eyes as she held his hands firmly in her own, "Understand?"

The boy closed his eyes and nodded slowly.

"Thank you so much, Ro."

"Now, I almost hate to ask, but is there anything else that's bothering you?"

"No, that's all." Ellis returned a smile, wiped his eyes, and put his hat back on.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah...yeah I'm sure."

"Alright. Let's head back downstairs. We'll have to keep moving soon and- ow..."

"What's the matter? " Ellis placed a hand on Rochelle's shoulder as the girl winced from a sudden, sharp pain, "Is it your scratches?"

"No. Well yeah, they hurt too, but my stomach's been killing me for a little while now."

"Yeah, mine too. Probably cuz we're starvin'."

Rochelle placed her hand on the door knob, but before she opened the door, they heard multiple pairs of rapid footsteps pounding on the cobblestone streets outside, via the hole in the window. They ran over to it and managed to catch a glimpse of four dark shapes dart past the streetlight before disappearing into the rainy gloom.

"Shit, what was _that_?" Ellis could feel his heart begin to race within his chest.

Rochelle merely shook her head as her own heart began to pound.

* * *

The rising sun had been so thoroughly strangled by the inky hands of the dreadful storm clouds that it might as well have remained night as Coach pried open the safe house door. In fact, there was a decidedly greenish cast to the sky.

"Christ," Nick whistled as he observed the heavens' horrific hue, "So we're heading out in _this_, huh?"

Ellis approached Francis with the older man's shotgun in his hands. During the chaos of the previous night, the two of them had both lost and procured the others weapon.

"Thanks, kid." As the biker reached for his auto shotgun, Ellis hesitated.

"I was wonderin' if...maybe I could hang onto your gun for a while. Please? I mean, if that's alright with you an' all," Ellis grinned as Francis cocked him an eyebrow, "You were so badass with it an' well, I was hopin' I could try it out for myself. 'Asides, you're a better shot with the sniper rifle than me, anyways. That cryin' chick's brain has got ta' be hurtin' more than- well, more than mine did durin' my SAT test. An' believe me, that was _painful_."

"Sure, kid," Francis chuckled, "but I expect it back. You hear?"

"Awesome, man! Thank you!" Ellis beamed, but quickly reverted to a hushed tone, "Oh...an' sorry 'bout last night...for waking you up..."

"No worries." Francis squinted as he looked into the boy's eyes. It was the first time that he had actually gotten a good look at the kid, and for a moment, he seemed lost in contemplation.

"Uh, you alright?" Ellis scratched at the tuft of hair that emerged from the back of his hat, made curlier by the humidity. His gaze fell to the ground in response to the biker's stare.

"Yeah, yeah." Francis quickly contorted his slightly worried countenance into a neutral smile, hefted Ellis's sniper rifle onto his back, and stepped out into the gloomy alleyway. His eyes were immediately drawn to the rosy splash of color that was Rochelle's shirt, and he made his way over to the woman as if magnetically drawn to her.

"Morning," he stated with care as he raised both eyebrows.

"Could have fooled me," the girl piped as she looked up wearily at a particularly dreary cloud formation, "But good morning to you too."

As the group made their way cautiously through the narrow gaps between buildings, Ellis grew more and more uncomfortable, both from the increasing pain in his stomach and from the pair of eyes that he could feel as they bore into the back of his skull. He knew that Nick was staring at him, and from the hint of annoyance that he could detect in the conman's steps behind him, apparently Nick knew that _Ellis knew_ that he was staring at him. The fact that the boy refused to turn around and acknowledge him only served to annoy Nick even more.

The alley eventually became so narrow as they moved along that the five survivors had to file into a single line to proceed, with Coach in front and Nick bringing up the rear. The conman took it upon himself to walk so closely behind Ellis that the mechanic bit his lip as Nick's breath swirled forcefully against and around the back of his neck.

"Like I said before, we _need_ to talk." There was still a hint of a hiss in Nick's throaty whisper and Ellis had to squeeze his shoulder blades together to stifle the shiver that threatened to wrack through them.

"Not right now...an' I already said I was sorry..." Ellis murmured as he shut his eyes tightly. He could _feel _the annoyance radiating off of the conman.

Having a one-on-one sit down with Nick wasn't currently at the top of the mechanic's list, and the slight feeling of dread that accompanied that thought was complicated by another blast of hot breath. Nick's lips couldn't have been more than half an inch away from the back of his neck, and this time Ellis couldn't control his shiver. Nor could he keep from thinking of the other time that Nick had been so damn _close_ to him.

"...An' I meant it, too," Ellis huffed as a maddeningly itchy bead of sweat made its way down his forehead.

"A simple apology doesn't make things okay."

"Yeah, you're one ta' talk."

"What in the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Jus' forget it, Nick."

"Is everything alright back there?" Rochelle called out from behind Coach.

"Oh, everything's fine. Jus' fine. Nick's bein' his usual pissy self is all."

Nick had the sudden urge to wring the boy's neck, and his fingers twitched as he suppressed the desire with concerted effort. He was beyond frustrated with Ellis, and could not for the life of him explain the change in the boy's demeanor.

"Hey, Ellis," Francis called out in an attempt to ease the tension.

"What's up?"

"So I heard you saying something about Zoey being pretty."

"Oh... Yeah, I did say that."

"Before almost getting us all killed." Nick interjected.

Ellis winced slightly.

"You got the hot's for her?" Francis continued.

"Man, she is just about the most beautiful girl I have ever had the pleasure a' layin' eyes on!" the boy shouted, "In fact, even sayin' her name makes me smile. Zoey, Zoey, Zoey..."

Nick remained silent as he walked behind the rest of the group, but God help him- _God help him_- he couldn't keep from rolling his eyes.

The alley eventually opened up to reveal a large boulevard with bright neon signs adorning nearly every building, and with an abundance of streetlights lining the broad, cobblestone street on either side, the sight would have been enchanting were it not for the miserable weather, the slew of dead bodies at their feet, and the dark forms shambling about in the distance.

"Looks like Rayford wasn't such a bad place to live," Nick commented as they traveled down the street, and his eyes lit up upon seeing a pawn shop whose doors had been smashed in, "Hey, let's stop in here."

"Need ta' steal back your weddin' ring or somethin'?" Ellis commented under his breath.

Nick bit his tongue and pretended not to hear as he entered through the shattered glass doors.

"Come on," Coach sighed, "We might find somethin' useful in here."

Francis and Rochelle only ventured a short distance into the darkened shop.

"Want to keep watch with me while the boys find some toys to play with?" The girl asked the biker.

"Yeah, definitely," Francis smiled at her for a moment before looking out solemnly into the driving rain.

"Something on your mind?" She asked.

Ellis meandered through the shop some distance away from Nick and Coach. The sight of a myriad of antique toys lifted his mood. He stopped in front of a small, wooden rocking horse and marveled at the care and craftsmanship of its construction. The horse's body was painted a bright golden yellow, and thick knots of white yarn served as its mane and tail. Ellis pushed it slowly and watched as it rocked back and forth with an enormous grin on his face. At one time, the boy had a rocking horse of his own- a gift from his mom. Although he was too young to remember riding it firsthand, he had seen himself playing with the toy on several occasions, as it was just one scene in a plethora of embarrassing home movies that his mother had kept and shown to just about everyone they knew, Keith included.

Ellis chuckled at the thought and pushed the diminutive horse one more time before moving on.

"Bingo," Nick smirked as he shot through a glass display case to remove an elegant katana. As he affixed the sword's scabbard to his pistol holster, he turned his attention to Coach who had begun to shout.

"Hell, yeah! Now _this_ is what I'm talkin' about!" The older man beamed as he observed a full suit of reproduction Renaissance armor, complete with a feather-plumed helmet.

"Nice, but...so what?" Nick asked as he joined him.

"Are you kidding? I'm puttin' this shit on!"

"Hah! I'd like to see that, actually." To Nick's surprise, Coach removed the breastplate and managed to brandish it over his chest.

"It's a tight fit, but I swear I'm gonna make use of this. Oughta' level the playing field!" Coach beat his fist into the thick steel.

"You've got to put on the helmet. It's no fun without the helmet."

"Come on, Nick. You know damn well that fightin' zombies with a helmet like this ain't practical."

"No, but it would be funny as hell. Where's Ellis? I bet _he'd_ put it on. Hey, Ellis!"

"Yeah?"

"Get over here and put this on," Nick smirked.

"I think I'll pass on that one, Nick."

"Aw, come on! Think about how impressed _Zoey_ would be if she saw you striding confidently up to the bridge while wearing it? You could be her knight-in-shining overalls."

Ellis merely shook his head and headed back towards the pawn shop's entrance.

"You said you lost a good man," Rochelle implored, breaking Francis away from his brooding thoughts.

"Bill..." Francis sighed, "I don't even want to start dealing with that just yet. It's one of the reasons why I'm here with you guys. I guess it's my way of running away from it all."

"Well then we don't have to talk about that if you don't want."

"Let's talk about _you_ then." Francis grinned.

"Am _I _the other reason why you're here with us?" Rochelle asked. Although she crossed her arms and tapped her foot, she did tilt her head slightly and smile.

"Nope, you're just the icing on the cake."

The girl smirked and rolled her eyes, "I never got to properly thank you for saving my life."

"Oh, well I can't wait for you to _properly_ thank me, then," the biker quickly laughed to diffuse any weight to the statement, "Where are you from? You obviously aren't from around here, so how did a girl like you end up in a place like this?"

"I'm from Cleveland, Ohio. I work for the news. Well, I wasn't exactly an anchorwoman at the time, but I was sent down to Savannah to cover a story on 'The Green Flu' seeing as I was one of the few from _Eyewitness 10_ who wasn't already sick. Cue the massive, terribly inconvenient zombie outbreak."

"Tell me about it. It really put a damper on all of my plans," Francis chuckled.

"Boy, you don't even know. Eventually, I joined up with Coach and the others, got the hell out of Dodge, and here we are. What about you? Your accent doesn't exactly scream of the southeast either."

"I'm from Fairfield, Pennsylvania."

"Holy shit! That's where this mess started..._three weeks ago_!"

"How did you know that? Oh yeah, you're with the news."

"So you've fought your way through zombies for the past three weeks? Damn, I'd better stick with you. You obviously must be doing something right."

Francis could feel his face flushing with color.

"Well, it hasn't exactly been three weeks of nonstop zombie-slaying," the biker cleared his throat, "but hell, with what me and my crew have been through, it sure has felt like three weeks. I guess it just took a little while for this infection to take off, but once it did- there was no stopping it after that."

"I wonder how it all started, you know?" Rochelle pondered aloud, cringing slightly at a sudden bolt of lightning.

Francis took the opportunity to move a little closer to the girl.

"That, I'm not sure about. Hell, no one has a clue about that- not even CEDA or the military."

"My news crew was partnered with CEDA, but I didn't know the military was involved."

"Well they are..." Francis's voice trailed off, and from the way his arms shook after clenching his hands into fists, Rochelle thought twice before asking further. However, her curiosity as a reporter-in-training was getting the better of her.

"How did you end up in Georgia?"

"The military brought us down here. Long story short: we fought our way out of Fairfield and its suburbs, ended up in the Allegheny forest, and bummed a ride in an armored tank-thingy."

"Cool."

"Yeah, that's what _I_ said. Until we...parted ways with the military for reasons I really don't care to discuss. Sorry." There was a darkness to Francis's tone that made Rochelle bite her lip.

"I see."

Francis sighed and sat down on an ornamental sofa. He offered her the seat next to him and she sat down.

"They were headed to Louisiana, but the ride ended here in Georgia for us. Fine by me." Francis extended his arm casually along the sofa, behind Rochelle's shoulders.

"New Orleans..." the girl mumbled. It was where her group was headed, and she was almost engrossed enough in her thoughts to miss the location of the biker's arm.

"We ended up- Uh-" Francis abruptly ended mid-sentence as Ellis made his way over to them.

"Am I interruptin' somethin'?" the boy asked, a sly grin forming on his face as he observed the close proximity between Francis and Rochelle.

"No, not at all," the girl stammered as she scooted away from the biker, "Francis was just telling me about how he ended up in Georgia."

"Ooooh, I'd like ta' hear 'bout that, too!" the boy exclaimed.

"Uh...some other time," Francis looked away from both of them, "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Oh, okay."

Rochelle gave the biker a narrow-eyed look before Coach and Nick joined them.

"What's goin' on out here?" Coach huffed, "The two of you seem to be gettin' pretty close."

"Oh, they was closer jus' a second ago," Ellis winked and elbowed Coach's shoulder.

The older man grunted and made his way back out into the rain.

"Ellis!" Rochelle glared at the boy and pinched his arm as she walked past him.

"Aw, dang it! What did I do, now?"

"Dumbshit," Nick chided as he joined the rest of the group outside.

* * *

"Zoey, Zoey, Zoey..."

The five survivors continued down the boulevard before ducking into another alley to avoid a rather large group of infected milling about around a coffee shop. Like the one they had traversed before it, this one was narrow and cramped, yet twice as long. Once again they had filed into a single line with Coach in front, followed by Rochelle, then Francis, then Ellis, and lastly Nick.

"Zoey, Zoey, Zoey..."

"Ellis," Nick tried his best not to snarl the boy's name, "Why don't you tell us more about those 'things' that you and Rochelle saw last night."

"Oh yeah! Well, I really couldn't see much, on account a' how dark an' rainy it was, but there were four of 'em. They looked pretty big, too."

"Define 'big.' Were they Tank big or Boomer big?"

"Well I don't know, Nick. Come ta' think of it, they weren't really big at all since we was up on the second floor a' that building. They looked kind a' small from up there."

"Ellis, you are freakin' useless."

"_Sorry,_ Nick. Zoey, Zoey, Zoey! Man, I jus' love sayin' that name! Rolls right off my tongue too."

"For fuck's sake. Rochelle, care to enlighten us?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you much more. Like Ellis said, it was too dark, and the rain drops on the window didn't help. They didn't look like any sort of infected, actually. At least not any that we've seen before."

"Well that's just great," Nick mumbled. He was lost in thought until Ellis's newly acquired mantra became unbearable.

"Zoey, Zoey-"

"Ellis would you kindly shut the fuck up? Jesus!"

"What's the matter, Nick?"

"You're being an annoying little shit, that's what."

"I ain't botherin' no one else."

"What's your deal, man?" There was a hint of mockery in Francis's tone as he called out to the conman.

"_You,_" this time Nick did snarl, "Don't even get me started on, _you_."

"Whatever," Francis chuckled.

"Y'all are really startin' to get on my nerves, you know that?" Coach began, but was cut off by the wailing of a small horde of zombies that began funneling into the alley and sprinting towards him from the front, "Oh shit! Forget what I just said and get ready to back me up!" Coach shouted as he crouched down gingerly on his good knee before unleashing his shotgun blasts into the tightly filed line of monsters.

The horde's forward momentum was stalled as each subsequent creature at the front of the line was torn asunder by the forceful bursts of each shot. Crimson streaks splattered the sides of both buildings as dismembered limbs, torsos, and heads piled up in front of Coach. As soon as he voiced his need to reload, Rochelle opened fire. Her bullets shredded through the ever increasing horde in a neat, concise stream. She found that she had to adjust her aim higher with each passing moment as the pile up of corpses in front of them was now at waist level. The incessant zombies were now climbing over their dead brethren- all the while aiding in the construction of the fleshy wall of bodies as they submitted to Rochelle's AK-47.

"Back up, people! Back up!" Coach yelled. The pile up of bodies was now looming above his head from his crouched position in front of Rochelle, and they began spilling forward- threatening to bury him. "Damn it! They're gonna end up blockin' our path!"

"Perfect. Just perfect," Nick muttered. He nearly lost his balance as he and the rest of the group began a slow retreat down the alley.

"Dang there's so many of 'em! I can't wait till it's my turn!" Ellis whooped.

"Francis, give them a second to climb over each other," Rochelle shouted above the screams as she reloaded, "Then let them have it!"

"I like the way you think!" Francis grinned down at her.

The wall of bodies began to erode under the weight of the remaining zombies as they scrambled over it, and Francis waited until a new string of the ghouls were just about to descend upon Coach before unleashing a single shot that sliced through their ranks like so much hot butter.

"Beautiful, y'all!" Coach called out as each sniper bullet brought down line after line of zombies, "Keep it up! There can't be that many left!"

"Oh, man! Oh, man! I'm almost up!" Ellis was hopping up and down not only from excitement, but also in an attempt to see around Francis's large frame and witness the carnage caused by the sniper rifle. He almost regretted giving his weapon to the biker.

Suddenly, Nick grabbed a hold of his shirt and yanked him close.

"Quiet, Overalls. Do you hear that?"

A series of unmistakable brays and snorts sent a chill down Nick's spine.

_Shit...Not now...Not in a fucking tight-ass, cramped place like this!_

Lo and behold, a hulking creature appeared at the end of the alley behind Nick, and attempted to wedge itself into the narrow corridor.

"We have a Charger!" Nick snarled.

"Ah shit! Maybe it won't be able to fit in here!" Ellis shouted.

"Well we're not gonna stand around and find out! Coach! Take care of the stragglers before the God damned Charger wipes us all out!"

"Damn it!" Coach huffed as he rose to his feet, "Alright! We gotta move!" He and Rochelle began firing into the remaining zombies as Francis scrambled to reload the sniper rifle. The five of them plowed through the fallen infected in a desperate attempt to scale the large mound of piled up corpses they had created.

The Charger managed to squeeze its body into the alley way and began a rampaging pursuit.

Coach bludgeoned the remaining infected with his golf club, raced towards the pile of dead zombies, and leapt onto it. His weight caused some of the slain creatures to tumble beneath him, but fortunately there were enough densely packed bodies to support him. He tried to ignore the fact that he was coming into such intimate contact with so many horrid, festering cadavers- their blood-soaked arms, fingers, and faces pressing against his body and face- but it was the smell that almost made him lose it. As he scrambled onto the other side, he prayed that the rancid, fleshy barricade would be strong enough to bear the force of the Charger's impact.

The asymmetrical monster let out a roar as it surged forward.

Francis grabbed Rochelle and hoisted the petite girl onto the sizable corpse-pile. She used the momentum to quickly roll over to the other side.

The Charger left a stream of its own blood and shredded flesh in its wake as the enormous arm and shoulder scraped against the brick building on its right side. It grunted in pain when the bones of its tiny arm snapped as it battered against the stone building on its left side. Additionally, Nick had begun firing a clip into its face with his submachine gun. Although the friction of the tight space slowed down the speed of its charge, the pain only served to intensify the Charger's fury and desire to kill.

"Ellis! Your turn!" Francis shouted as he began firing at the Charger.

"No, I'm gonna help you guys!"

"No matter how much I would love to see you shoot Nick, it's too cramped for you to use that shotgun! Now get moving!"

"But-"

"God damn it, Overalls, just do it!" Nick commanded.

Ellis begrudgingly slipped past Francis and scrambled onto the zombie blockade. His companions were right. It was too risky for him to fire the shotgun from his position behind Nick. Again, he regretted giving his sniper rifle to Francis. As he made it on top of the pile, the mechanic observed the chaos taking place on the other side. The alley had given way to another brightly lit boulevard, and a Jockey had latched onto Coach. Rochelle was struggling to aim at the little creature while waiting for a moat of Spitter acid blocking her path to dissipate.

"Shit, you guys! Hurry up! Jockey's on Coach!"

"Well take care of it, Ellis! Our hands are full!" Nick unsheathed his katana and launched it at the Charger. The blade entered the creature's smashed skull, and it skidded to an abrupt stop, suspended on either side by the tight alley walls.

Satisfied that Nick and Francis were safe, Ellis jumped onto the street and took off after Coach and Rochelle.

The Jockey had managed to rip off Coach's eye bandages, and the man shouted in pain as the little beast's fingers pressed against the tender skin of his eyelid. Rochelle's well-placed bullet knocked the creature off his back and onto the ground in a lifeless heap, and the young woman steadied Coach as he rose to his feet. Ellis joined them after ending the Spitter's life, and together the three began making their way back up the street towards the blocked alley.

"God damn it, that was close," Nick sighed as he wiped his brow. Just before he could remove the katana from the Charger's skull, he was punched in the back of the head and viciously pinned against the wall of the brick building.

"It's been way too long, Brother," Francis growled, "Way too fucking long."


	15. Chapter 15

_Damn it, Moore. You couldn't have hung on...just for a little bit longer?_

_..._

_Come on man. You can do this...You can do this... Oh shit. Oh shit!_

_..._

_Work, damn you. Work...Yes! Hell yes! Now I just have to make it to the highway..._

_..._

_

* * *

_

"Missed me that much, huh?" The conman quipped despite the pressure against his windpipe, "If you wanted to throw me up against the wall so badly, you could have done it back in that apartment building. Much more romantic that way. Believe it or not, your B.O. is less of a turn off than the stink of this zombie compost heap...But just barely."

"As sickeningly snarky as always," Francis growled as he applied even more pressure to Nick's throat, "I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you back at that bridge."

"Seriously though," Nick wheezed, "Is now the best time to play your silly little vengeance game? I don't run with the Bumbling Biker Buttbuddy Brigade anymore."

In one swift motion, Francis withdrew a pistol with his free hand and used it to liberally smack the conman across the face.

"You...you _pistol-whipped_ me..." Nick's open-mouthed disbelief quickly turned into a bemused smirk.

"There are three reasons why I'm gonna blow your fucking head off," Francis growled, "First of all, you had me stripped of rank! In the blink of an eye I went from Full-Patch back down to Prospect! It took me nearly a year to work my way back up! Not only that, but whatever God-damn puppet strings you pulled had me moved from the New York branch of the Legion back to Fairfield!" Again Francis smacked Nick across the face with his pistol.

"NYC was too good for you anyway," Nick chided, "I could have had you ousted- _axed_ if I so fancied. After what you did to me, you should have been grateful that I didn't. No matter what your precious little rank, you were nothing but a dog. Mindless muscle. Whatever your illusions of grandeur were-"

"Illusions of grandeur? Hah! _You're _preaching to_ me_ about illusions of' grandeur? I was, _am,_ one of Hell's Legion's soldiers. We got the work done- in style- riding free, while you sat on your Dolce & Gabbana ass and twiddled your manicured thumbs behind a God-damned desk in fucking _New Jersey_. Guess NYC was too good for you, too."

Nick brought his knee up as quickly as he could, silencing Francis as it connected with the biker's stomach. He then head-butted the larger man, knocked him off balance, and managed to break free from his grip.

"Christ, your skull is thick," Nick remarked, making a mad dash for his katana, "You know, I had _you_ in mind when I picked out this sharp little friend, here." With a smile, he removed the embedded sword from the Charger's head and approached Francis slowly as the biker rose to his feet.

"Save it, you psychopath. Ugh..." Francis coughed and rubbed his stomach, "What kind of a fucking cheap-ass shot was that, anyway?"

"I was aiming for your crotch. Just think about that before you start bitching...and bad-mouthing Jersey." Nick flippantly wagged the katana back and forth.

"Yeah? Well _I'm_ aiming for your God-damn mouth!" The biker shouted and raised his pistol.

"Oh, come on, now. You're not really gonna shoot me."

"Of course I am. Reason number three: You snitch, you _die_. I was almost arrested because you sang to the cops. 'Thou shalt not suffer a _snitch_ to live.' It's one of our mandates. I have every right to fill your face with lead. You of all people should have known that if you want to live under the Legion's protection, then you follow the rules. But no, you thought you were special. You always did."

"So why didn't you shoot me back at the bridge?" Nick held the katana in a defensive stance and glanced at the spot on the ground where he had dropped his machine gun, "Or let Cupcake do it? She was more than ready to gun me down herself."

"Zoey and Louis were the only reason why I didn't. They don't know about my affiliation with the Legion. They're the only family I have now. What kind of impression would I have made if I shot someone that I supposedly never met?"

"So you care about them, huh? Care what they think? That's different, Francis. You've changed. Now put the God damn gun away. This is ridiculous."

Francis snorted, but placed his pistol back in his holster.

Nick lowered the sword, and with a grin, he began to slide the weapon back into its sheath, "No cops. No rules. Dream come true, huh Francis? I'll bet you've been having a grand old time, raping and pillaging in this apocalyptic shit hole."

Without warning, Francis unstrapped Ellis's sniper rifle and surged forward, swinging the butt of the weapon in a downward arch. Nick blocked the blow and deflected the rifle with the steel blade.

"Now this is the Francis I know and love. Maiming and bludgeoning was more your speed anyway," Nick grunted as he strained against the impact of the heavy rifle. Francis disengaged him and swung the rifle with even more force.

"Well, it's good to know this sword isn't some cheap knock-off," Nick observed as he managed to block the second blow. He then took a swipe at the biker.

"Which is more than can be said about you," the biker countered as he ducked beneath the blade's path.

"Touché. Now, en garde!" Nick swung the sword merrily as Francis backed away towards the enormous pile of corpses. The narrowness of the alley limited the biker's evasive options, but it also limited the path of the conman's blade.

"I'm the one who should be enjoying this. Not you," Francis snarled.

"Too bad. This is actually the most fun I've had since this zombie shit started...well _almost_..." the conman smiled and raised an eyebrow. A bright gleam lit up his eyes as he recalled rolling around in the racecar with the young mechanic.

"What's_ that_ supposed to mean? Wait, I recognize that sleazy grin anywhere. Now there's the Nick _I_ know."

"And love?" The conman smirked as he held the katana up to the biker's face and used the blade to flick away a tuft of Francis's beard.

"You wish. And if anyone would be taking advantage of the chaos, it'd be you. Raising hell, literally and figuratively screwing every man, woman, and hell-_ zombie- _you could get your filthy paws on. Speaking of screwing, tell me you haven't..."

"Haven't _what_?" Nick now had the katana nestled snuggly against Francis's jugular, but was held in check by the fact that the biker had the sniper rifle's tip up against his chest- with his finger on the trigger, "Oh..._Rochelle_... You've taken a fancy to her, haven't you? What if I told you I did? Would that piss you off? Change your opinion of her?"

"No, because I know you haven't gone near her. She wouldn't have let you if you tried. You couldn't handle a girl like that. You couldn't handle the last one- your _ex._"

"Which is why you felt the need to 'handle' her yourself?" Nick hissed, "And you wonder why I had your ass demoted. I could have done so much worse, and tipping off the cops was just me filling my goodwill quota. _You_ behind bars meant at least one family would have their precious flat screen TV for Christmas."

Francis gritted his teeth, his temper fully lost.

"_Demoted_...The fact that you were able to do that makes me sick! That a manipulative psychopath was able to slither his way into an administrative position within the Legion is beyond me! A fucking disgrace is what it is! I guess the fact that you also slithered your way under the skirt of the boss' daughter helped quite a bit." Francis succeeded in striking Nick's ribs, wrenched the katana from the staggered conman, and shoved him against the pile of slaughtered infected.

"I don't know what shocks me more," Nick winced slightly as zombie blood dripped onto his shoulder, "The fact that you're kicking my ass, or that you used so many big-boy words in one sentence. 'Manipulative?' 'Administrative?' Not one, but _two _five-syllable words. Damn. But you seem to be painting a black and white picture here, conveniently leaving out all of the _red. _The 'slithering,' as you so tastefully described, took place after I courted her. Initially, I had no interest in your pathetic gang. She was the reason I joined Hell's Legion in the first place. We got _married_, for Christ's sake, and then I found out- from her own lips- that _you_ were the one doing the slithering behind _my_ back."

"Oh, please. Your relationship was in the toilet, and the two of you were already divorced before I showed her what she'd been missing."

"Barely. Just barely."

"So let me get this straight. You joined Hell's Legion to get into a woman's pants?" Francis scoffed.

"It's not that simple, asshole, and I'm not getting into it with you. Then, to add insult to injury, you introduced her to Charles. _Charles_! You know how much I hated that son of a bitch."

"Yeah. Enough to steal his identity and completely ruin his credit."

"Damn straight," Nick spat on the ground.

"I guess Moore never caught up to you, then. Too damn bad."

"Moore..."

"Detective Moore. Last I heard, the guy was tailing your tailored ass down the eastern seaboard."

"Moore is ancient history, now."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. This has been fun, it truly has, but shouldn't we wrap things up here?"

"I was just about to do that," Francis grinned and pulled his arm back before striking Nick's face.

"Great. Beat the shit out of the guy who saved your life," Nick coughed and squinted his eyes. The skin around his left one was already becoming dark blue.

"Now that's rich. What the hell are you talking about?"

"Think about it. You were stationed in New York until _I_ had your ass hauled out of there, what, a year ago now?"

"So."

"Tell me getting out of Fairfield wasn't bad enough. Imagine being in New York City when the infection hit. We're talking millions of zombies, thousands of Hunters and Chargers, hundreds of Tanks. If you think for one second you would have made it out of there alive-"

"Hey Nick? Francis? Y'all okay over there?" Ellis shouted, promptly halting Nick mid-sentence.

Francis growled at the sudden interruption.

Nick closed his eyes and smiled.

Ellis couldn't see either of the men behind the decomposing wall of bodies as he and the others made it back to the mouth of the narrow alley.

"So what's it gonna be, Franny?" Nick whispered, feeling the pinch of the biker's finger nails as they dug into the skin of his neck, "You really gonna kill me?"

"Nick? Come on, man. Answer me!" Ellis shouted from behind the barricade of rancid zombie flesh.

"If your pride and blind loyalty to some long-gone gang is worth my life, well then go ahead and take it." Nick opened his eyes slightly, his expression blank, "You're going to have some explaining to do to the others, but I'm sure you'll come up with something...make it look like some zombie got me... Shit, you could even sweep me under this pile right here," the conman chuckled, but it sounded more like a cough, "Ellis thinks you're the shit and Coach...Coach doesn't fucking trust you- I think you'll fill my spot quite nicely. Hell, Rochelle likes you, which means you've got one up on me."

"There's something different about you." Francis stared at Nick's pale face, looked directly into his eyes, and squinted slightly.

"Oh yeah...now what's that?"

"Nick!" The boy's voice was strained and filled with a concern that made the conman's chest tighten.

"It's all right Ellis. I'm okay...peachy...never been better," Nick replied hoarsely with Francis's large hand still wrapped around his throat.

"You don't sound okay."

"Don't worry about me," the conman groaned, but his lips quirked slightly to form a small smile, "Francis has been taking good care of me. He's a _really_ great guy, this one."

Francis's eye twitched. His teeth were still gritted, but his grip on Nick's neck slackened.

"I'll keep this little charade between the two of us if _you_ will," The conman's voice was liquid velvet wrapped around crushed glass. A bright, almost cheerful gleam returned to his eyes.

"I _will_ get you back..." Francis snarled.

"Not before I do."

"I'm comin' over ta' getcha'!" Ellis cried out.

"That won't be necessary, kid," Francis grabbed the conman and began clamoring over the pile of zombies.

Nick shot a smile at Francis, but the biker couldn't tell if the grin was sheepish or mocking. Francis huffed as he hauled the conman up to the apex of the corpse pile.

"This is real sweet of you, though...carrying me like this," Nick looked down to see Ellis beaming up at them. He barely had time to roll his eyes and salute the boy before Francis unceremoniously dropped him onto the pavement.

"Dang, Nick," Ellis held a hand out to the conman, and Nick took it. After helping the older man onto his feet, the boy placed two fingers gently on the immense black and blue surrounding Nick's eye.

"Must you poke at it? It hurts, Overalls."

"What happened, Nick?"

"Eh...nothing I couldn't handle."

Francis gave a sharp snort.

"Thank God for hair ties," Rochelle muttered as they continued down the brightly lit boulevard. Coach glanced at her as she fretfully patted her rain-soaked braids with her free hand. The amount of precipitation bombarding them was rather remarkable, although October storms- even hurricanes- were not unheard of.

With the same mouth Coach used to utter a quick prayer- that they wouldn't experience a storm of Biblical proportions any time soon- he mumbled an even quieter curse as Francis made his way over to Rochelle. As he watched the biker wrap an admittedly muscular arm around the girl, Coach wrapped his fingers even more tightly around his shotgun- merely out of reflex, of course.

"Cold?" Francis asked as he rubbed Rochelle's shoulder, his hands caressing a small bruise that marred the otherwise soft, flawless skin of her arm.

Coach pumped the shotgun this time- there were zombies around after all. Best to be prepared...

The sound caused both the man and woman to turn their heads to face him. Coach could sense Rochelle's frown and sharply cocked eyebrow. He could just _imagine _a grin on Francis's face so idiotic that it begged to be punched off, but the older man was no longer looking at either of them, choosing instead to focus on an imaginary horde of zombies ahead of them until the pair silently turned back around and continued walking. Coach let out a sigh and tentatively held a hand to his injured eye.

Since having the bandages removed, courtesy of a Jockey, his tender eye region was now being pelted by the driving rain. Despite that, it was still a bit of a relief to have the tight bandages off for a change. He looked around to test his vision and marveled at how odd it was to see clearly from one eye and poorly from the other. It was as though the world around him was alternately sharpening and fading into and out of focus as his good and bad eye fought for dominance. The glowing patches of neon lights were especially disturbing and seemed to blur and bleed into the rainy air around him.

Coach turned to see two figures walking towards him from behind. He blinked as one of them was swallowed up in a hazy halo of neon light; the other enveloped in an unnervingly dark, almost cloud-like shadow. He covered his bad eye with his hand to see Nick and Ellis come into focus and waited for them to catch up to him.

"What's the matter, Coach?" Ellis patted the man on the back, and then playfully knocked on Coach's newly acquired armored chest plate with his fist, "Oh, your eye...as soon as we find a safe place ta' stop, we'll have that patched up all nice again."

Coach shrugged.

"Only if one of you two does the honors," he stated glumly and continued to walk.

"Okay. Sure, no problem," Ellis replied.

Nick scrunched up his brow at Coach's remark, touched his own bruised eye, and smirked slightly.

* * *

"I know we only met jus' recently, but...I can't stop thinkin' 'bout you... Can't wait ta' see you again, my darlin'..." Ellis drawled under his breath in a throaty whisper.

Nick was busying himself by envisioning how many ways he could slice and dice the mechanic with his katana.

"You are so beautiful..."

He could disembowel the boy.

"Sooo beautiful..."

Perhaps lop his head off cleanly with one swipe.

"I can't wait ta' run my hands all over your body..."

Or impale him through the God damn mouth like a shish kabob and roast him over an open flame.

"Yeah, that'll do. That'll do _nicely_," Nick murmured.

"You say somethin', Nick?"

"Me? Nope. You may carry on, Overalls. I didn't say a thing." The conman began to gradually slow the pace of his walk to increase the distance between himself and the others. As expected, Ellis did the same to keep in line with him.

Ellis stayed quiet for for a while before embarking on a nearly ten minute long Keith story.

"And that there was good ol' Mother Nature's way a' sayin' people an' goats ain't supposed ta'..._mix..._Somehow, though, I don't think Keith got the message."

"Ellis, that was one of the sickest things I've ever heard in my life- and that's saying a lot. You have so many God damn stories that I doubt you'll ever repeat one, but God help you if you repeat this one." Nick ran a hand through his hair and fidgeted with his rings as they continued down the brightly lit boulevard.

"That one's cool," the boy remarked quietly after a few moments of silence.

"Huh?"

"That ring. It looks real badass." Ellis pointed to one of the largest rings on the conman's fingers. It was gold with an intricately detailed, radially symmetrical engraving of what appeared to be eight arrows pointing outwards like a double compass. Nestled in the space between each arrow tip were eight human skulls. Their grinning faces were encircled by two serpents which, instead of scales, had runic symbols along the length of their bodies that were too tiny for Ellis to read. Had they been larger, the boy would still be unable to decipher their meaning. The entire design resembled a masonic symbol, or an occult magic circle that a sorcerer would construct to protect himself from a summoned demon.

"This was a gift from my ex-wife when we started going steady."

"Oh..." Ellis frowned, "Well I like that one more," The mechanic pointed to a different ring on Nick's right hand, "That one's really nice."

It was smaller and less gaudy than the others- gold with a central, hand-woven, silver inlay in the form of a three strand knot.

"That one's my wedding ring."

"Oh.." Ellis scratched his head, "Well, why do you still wear it? If you ain't married any more..."

"Because it looks good. You said so yourself. She wasn't going to give back the ring I gave her, so why not keep the one she gave me? Besides, it's not on the proper hand. Doesn't mean anything anymore."

"Hey do you think I could-"

"No, you can't try it on."

"Aw man. Why not?"

Because you'll get it dirty."

"No I won't."

"Or drop it."

"No I won't."

"Or break out into a story about proposing to what's-her-face."

Ellis remained silent. His mouth slightly agape.

"Thought so."

"Look, Nick. I don't really-"

"Ellis, you've been talking nonstop for the last ten minutes. Literally nonstop. I've resigned myself to accept the fact that you simply can't help yourself. I deserve sainthood for sitting through that last story. So why don't you talk about something productive for a change?"

"Well, what do you mean?" Ellis stammered, knowing exactly what Nick meant.

"You've been a bad boy, Ellis. I demand answers. Lately you've been grumpy, bitchy, annoying, and you made an irrational, shit head decision that endangered my life- and everyone else's."

"So I'm actin' like _you_ then."

"Exactly. Don't give me that_ look._ I've been picking my brain for hours now, trying to pinpoint when you started being an asshole."

"An _asshole_? Are you serious, Nick?"

"It's subtle, which is why it's been so hard for me to figure out exactly when you changed. Would you stop giving me that look? I am _not_ crazy."

"I'm sorry about the Witch thing, okay? Sorry. As far as everything else goes...I...I really don't know what you're talkin' about. I think you might actually be goin' crazy."

"That's cute, Ellis. Real cute."

"Oh, Lord..."

"I'll ignore the fact that you still didn't tell me _why_ you charged that Witch. For now._" And don't even get me started on your sudden Zoey obsession, you little shit._

After reaching Rayford's dark heart, the group of five stopped in front of a dilapidated building with a small crimson light at the top of one of its balconies. The light flickered due to the city's now compromised power grid. To the casual observer, the tiny light would not have been noticeable amidst the chaos of neon, but both Nick and Francis noticed it, and they gave each other shifty eyes.

"What's up with you two?" Rochelle asked as they walked past the building.

"Oh, nothing. I was just marveling at the fact that Rayford seems to have a red light district hidden in plain sight," Nick stated with a rather lupine grin, "This place really isn't half-bad after all."

"You're kidding." Rochelle's eyebrows were raised.

Nick motioned towards the large edifice, which now looked to all the world like a crumbling haunted house.

"What's a red light district?" Ellis inquired, shifting slightly as he had somewhat of an idea of the term's meaning. Nick shook his head and pushed the bill of the boy's hat down, covering his eyes.

"Oh ye of wide-eyed innocence. A red light district is a place where-" Nick was interrupted mid-sentence as a wad of goo came hurtling down at them from the balcony above. It splattered onto the pavement around them and they all dove in different directions to escape the corrosive substance.

The Spitter that was perched above them gave a gleeful squawk and leapt onto an adjacent balcony. Another one burst through the building's doorway, emitting the rattling hiss of a vulture. It took a swipe at Nick with its polished nails as it lunged towards him. The conman strafed nimbly before opening the creature's bloated belly with his sword. More acid sprung forth, oozing and spurting like iridescent green oil. Nick sprinted gingerly across the now sizable pool of acid, hoping that his replacement sneakers wouldn't go the way of his late great pair of dress shoes. Francis be damned, Nick had been fond of those stylish Dolce & Gabbana leather lace ups.

Francis had just picked off the Spitter lurking on the balcony when Rochelle tackled him to the ground. The biker stared at the girl now straddling his torso with utter disbelief before realizing that another stream of goo had missed him by inches and had splattered onto one of the support columns of the building of ill repute. Rochelle was back on her feet and dragging him as best she could as the acid began eating away at the column, which promptly collapsed, sending a portion of the building's facade down around them.

"Hell-_o_," Nick whistled as a gaggle of Spitters emerged from the debris. Eight of them in total. Their hideous, chemically burned faces and esophagi resulted in various patches of exposed muscle and bone- their skimpy wardrobes resulted in various patches of exposed flesh. Revealing metallic bras glimmered under the neon lights, soiled thongs and g-strings attempted to escape their prison of tight leather pants, and bloated ostrich feet swelled fashionable stiletto pumps to bursting. Some of the creatures shunned pants and instead wore tiny shorts and torn fishnet stockings. Some of them wore even less.

"I'm gonna be sick," Ellis moaned. His stomach had been feeling upset since last night, and the horrific sight drove him over the edge. He wretched, and the pitiful contents of his stomach joined the rapidly spreading moat of goo near his feet.

"Man up, Ellis. Is that how you're gonna react when Zoey takes her top-"

"Aw, gimme a break, Nick!" Ellis whined, interrupting the conman who ran past him.

The five survivors sprinted down the street as streams of goo shot through the air. The projectiles were nearly continuous as two or three of the beasts expelled their toxic loads at a time. Coach jumped as far as he could when a ball of goo whizzed past his head and splattered the ground in front of him. He managed to clear the puddle, but he didn't even try to support his weight as he landed. He rolled several times, which spared his weakened knee, but left him exposed on the ground as the Spitters bounded towards him like so many ravenous, flightless birds. He rolled again, avoiding another stream of goo, and fired his shotgun. The spray of pellets brought one of the monsters down and injured another.

Two of the Spitters that had fired their acid charged him, thrusting their claws and swiping at him with their enormous feet. The five remaining Spitters held back, hissing and squawking as they observed the attack. Coach grabbed onto a spindly arm that missed his face and held one of the creatures still enough for him to blow a hole through its skull. The other Spitter continued to harass him with its feet, but could not penetrate the steel armor protecting Coach's chest. The monster hissed as pistol-fire struck its neck before dropping to the ground with a shriek. Coach crawled desperately to get away from yet another puddle of goo as the dying Spitter released the contents of its stomach. Ellis was at the man's side a moment later, helping him off the ground as three of the five remaining Spitters fired at them.

Ellis shot his pistol haphazardly behind him as he and Coach closed the distance between themselves and the others, who were now embroiled in a horde fight. The mechanic slowed down and aimed carefully. Before he could shoot, one of the gangling infected had circled to his left and spat an enormous wad at him. He ducked and rolled, and from his crouched position, he took the offending creature down with a well-placed shot. With four Spitters remaining, Ellis grabbed Coach's arm and motioned towards an alley between a tattoo parlor and a psychic shop. As they ducked into it, the boy hoped that the Spitters would follow them instead of heading towards the others.

Nick was up to his neck in zombies. His machine gun needed a new clip, so he backed up against a building to keep from being blindsided as he pulled out his katana. There were too many zombies swarming about for him to rejoin Rochelle and Francis, so he stood his ground and proceeded to slash at anything and everything that approached him until his arms began to ache. He heard a deep growl from the rooftop above him and took a quick glance upward to see a hooded figure peering down over the gutters. Nick began slowly making his way along the side of the building, impaling and decapitating his attackers, mindfully aware that a Hunter was stalking him from above. He made his way around the corner of the building and over towards the side door, which wasn't locked. He ducked inside what appeared to be a storage room, slammed the door shut, and waited by the window.

He could hear the zombies scrabbling at the door, pounding aimlessly with their fists when the simple use of their opposable thumbs would have done the trick. Nick twisted the lock despite the zombies' loss of higher mental functioning and loaded his silenced submachine gun. The banging ceased, replaced by the sound of bodies crumpling to the ground and the Hunter's familiar growl. The conman crouched in front of the door as the Hunter began swiping at the wooden barrier between them. Unlike its lesser brethren, the creature would eventually tear its way inside, so Nick listened to the deep grunts, held the gun up to his best guess as to the location of the zombie's head, and fired. The machine gun pierced clean holes through the wood and messy holes through the Hunter's face.

After hearing the lifeless body slump over with a satisfying plop, Nick rushed through the storage room and into the main room of the building, which turned out to be a bar/pool hall. He raced over to one of the windows and fired with relative safety into the horde, making a definite point to provide Rochelle with more cover fire than Francis.

Two of the Spitters followed Ellis and Coach into the alley. The remaining two emitted a series of clucks and coos before circling around the tattoo parlor to attack them from behind. Coach blasted one of the pursuing Spitters to the ground before he and Ellis turned the corner and stopped behind the building.

The second Spitter vaulted over her fallen comrade without remorse. The powerful tendons in her legs propelled her through the air, and with her long arms pulled back, trailing behind her, she possessed the bizarre elegance of an ostrich or emu. She alighted onto her toes and surged forward without breaking stride. As she approached the alley's corner, the pendulous cauldron of her belly birthed a new batch of acidic goo. The substance rose from the depths of her being and into the tender lining of her esophagus, burning her throat as it made its way to the back of her mouth. She turned the corner and fired immediately. So eager was she to rid her mouth of the painful substance that she didn't bother to bring her neck forward the way the other Spitter had done- the one who now stood across from her at the other end of the building. She watched as her dazzling ball of liquid fire, born from an unholy mixture of her bile and tainted blood, sailed over the identical projectile that hurtled towards her.

It struck her chest, disintegrated her golden bra, and began destroying her flesh. She raised her head to shriek, and before crumbling to the ground, she caught sight of the two survivors she had been pursuing, perched safely atop the building's fire escape. The other Spitter, the one that had destroyed her, hadn't even been able to see the humans that outwitted them both. Her goo had struck that one in the face, sending her to the ground immediately.

Ellis let out a victory whoop as the last remaining Spitter fled, disappearing amidst the urban forest of buildings.

* * *

Everyone regrouped in the center of the street as the last of the zombies were picked off.

"I say we rest up around here," Coach spoke up.

"Aw come on," Francis grumbled, "We're barely making progress. I have the rest of my group waiting at the bridge."

"No one asked you to tag along," Coach retorted.

"Yeah, Francis. Why _exactly_ are you here, anyway?" Nick chided knowingly.

"Why question his reasoning? He left the bridge to save my life," Rochelle stated, crossing her arms, "And he's helping us _stay _alive by being here."

"Whatever you say," Nick also folded his arms, "But I agree with Coach." He walked over to the older man and patted him on the shoulder. Coach raised his eyebrows in surprise and stared at Nick who continued to speak, "We need to rest up, and besides, the big guy's eye needs some new bandages. Not that any of you knuckleheads noticed."

Rochelle opened her mouth to speak, but Nick beat her to it.

"Another thing," he smirked, "I say we split up for the duration of our little break. Coach and I will take this fine bar, and you three stooges can have the tattoo shop. It suits you, Francis."

"_What_? That's ridiculous!" Rochelle shouted, "We're a team. We stick together."

"She's right, Nick," Ellis added.

"Let's vote on it then, Rochelle. See? We can have a 'proper' vote now that we don't have an even number of people," Nick grinned, careful to use the same logic Rochelle had presented to him back in Savannah, "And sweetheart, I have a feeling you're going to lose this time."

The girl growled in frustration.

"All in favor of splitting up?" Nick inquired as he raised his hand.

Rochelle stood flabbergasted as both Coach and Francis raised their hands.

"_Coach_..." The girl demanded.

"I'm sure you'll be all right with _Francis," _Coach stated rather coldly, "We'll regroup in two hours."

Rochelle sighed and shook her head.

"It'll be fine." The biker placed a hand on her shoulder. "Besides, two hours in the same room with _Nick_? At this point you couldn't pay me enough to agree with that."

With the vote firmly at three against two in favor of splitting up, Nick and Coach headed across the street towards the bar. The older man stopped to glance at Rochelle once more as she and Francis stepped into their makeshift safe house.

"Don't worry Coach. I think Francis can take care of the _ladies_."

"Bastard," Ellis muttered before disappearing into the tattoo parlor.

* * *

"Welcome to my own little slice of Heaven- or circle of Hell. Whichever," Nick stated as he led Coach through the bar's storage room and into the pool hall.

"Nice choice." Coach wandered around the room, which was cleaner than he would have expected. There were only three or four desiccated corpses on the ground.

"Isn't it?" Nick placed his hand on one of the pool tables, "This place can kick that tattoo shop's ass."

"Gotta agree. I almost feel sorry for those three."

"Almost, huh?"

After helping Nick drag most of the pool tables across the room to barricade the windows, Coach sat down on the ground and tentatively touched his wounded eye with the back of his hand.

"It doesn't look half bad," Nick remarked as he plopped down next to the older man, "It's a little weepy, but that's to be expected- unless that's you crying," he grinned.

"Ass," Coach grunted, but returned the smile.

Nick reached into his med kit and pulled out a greatly diminished roll of bandages.

"Hold on now, Nick. I think I can manage without bein' wrapped up. At least for a little while."

"You need to protect that eye until it's fully healed."

"The bandages are gettin' uncomfortable. Besides, it ain't easy aiming with one eye covered, and don't even get me started on the blind spot issue."

"Hey, hey. Quit bitching. That's my job. Now hold still." Nick flushed out Coach's eye with the last of his saline and wrapped gauze around the man's head in the same manner in which he had done back in the apartment building.

"You really should be savin' these supplies," Coach sighed.

"Yeah, well I used up half the roll of bandages on you already. Might as well finish it off. And would it kill you to just sit still and appreciate that I'm helping you out, here? Should I be doing more? Fanning you and feeding you grapes, perhaps?"

"All right, Nick. All right. Thank you," Coach chuckled.

A violent gust of wind caused all of the windows to shake. The majority of them were broken, but the pool tables blocking them only allowed for a minimal amount of water and wind to enter the bar.

"Hell of a storm." There was reverence in the older man's tone.

"Yeah, I can't remember the time I last saw the sun," Nick muttered, "Hey, Coach?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember when I apologized to you back at the mall? Well, I didn't really mean it then...I do now, though. I'm sorry."

Coach silently stared at the ground. He still had his doubts about the conman- a lingering feeling of uneasiness concerning him. He honestly didn't know what to think of Nick, but the guy was capable of truly benevolent acts. Not once, but twice had Nick undergone the labor-intensive task of changing his eye bandages.

"I'll admit, I didn't accept your apology the fist time. I accept it now."

After a while, Nick wandered over to the only pool table that wasn't barricading the windows and began placing all of the balls within the triangular rack. The table's green surface was heavily smeared and soiled with streaks and splotches of dried blood, but that neither dampened the conman's desire to play, nor hampered his ability to sink several shots after breaking the initial setup with a sharp crack.

"Care to join me, Coach?"

"Sure."

The older man put up a valiant effort, but was no match for Nick's cue sport expertise.

"Damn it, I'm impressed," Coach huffed as he watched the eight ball meander towards the corner pocket. It stopped a hair's thickness away from the hole before plummeting into it as if by the added push of a ghostly breath, clinching the conman's victory.

"When you risk life and limb on a single shot, you learn to get good- and quick," Nick replied nonchalantly, "Rematch?"

"Hell, yeah. Gotta say, Nick, you're the last person I thought I'd want to be alone with."

"Well I've changed your world view now, haven't I? Made you see the light," One corner of Nick's mouth quirked upwards, "I guess a thank you is in order then. I knew I was doing you a favor by getting you away from Francis- and Rochelle for that matter. It would seem that our new addition has been rubbing you the wrong way," The conman was careful to keep his tone light and neutral as he racked up all of the balls with triangle once more.

Coach grunted and struck the cue ball with impressive force, sending the colorful balls careening along the table. The yellow-striped nine landed in one of the side pockets.

"He's kind of..._handsy._..isn't he?"

Coach's grip on the pool cue tightened as he set his sights on the green-striped fourteen.

"All over Rochelle..." Nick continued, "She seems like such a respectable young woman, too. I wonder why she would let a filthy meat head drool all over her like that."

"Fuck!" Coach snarled as he missed sinking the fourteen. He then sighed and reeled in his temper with concerted effort, "Damned if I know."

"You like her, don't you?" There wasn't a shred of mockery in Nick's voice.

The older man set the pool cue aside. His silence spoke volumes.

"Have you told her?"

"No."

"Were you planning on it?"

"I...I was kind of hoping she would get the hint," Coach stated sheepishly.

Nick shook his head, "Well, if you hadn't been moving along at a glacial pace, maybe you could have bagged her before that greasy inmate showed up. Look, you and I are tight now, right?"

Coach cocked the eyebrow above his good eye.

"Okay, maybe not tight. How about comfortably snug then? Point is, I trust you enough to let you in on some personal info," Nick set his cue stick aside and leaned against the table, "I know Francis, and buddy, if you thought _I_ was bad news, think again. If I'm a- 'Shit, it's raining. My weekend is ruined.' Then Francis is a- 'Shit, a meteorite is about to fall on my head. My weekend is ruined.'"

"Go on," Coach urged quietly.

"Once upon a time, Francis and I...we worked for the same company. I was one of the head managers, and he...well let's just say he mopped the floors at night," Nick removed his jacket and draped it over a chair with great care, "Francis was jealous of me. Not of my position, mind you. No, Francis _liked_ mopping the floors- and cleaning toilet bowls- and sneaking midnight snacks out of said toilet bowls when he thought no one was looking. At any rate, he had the crazy notion that he should be paid just as much to mop floors as I got paid to make sure things ran smoothly. So he kicked me in the balls- went right for my weak spot. Remember I told you I had a wife? Well, Francis was messing around with her all throughout our stressful divorce. Way to beat a guy when he's down, right?"

"That's fucked up. That shit's just not right," Coach shook his head, his fists clenched tightly.

"There's no way of proving it, but I have a feeling he was seeing her while we were still married."

"Damn..."

"You and Ro may not be together, but I can sympathize with what he's doing to you, Coach. If there's one person who deserves to be eaten alive by zombies, it would be _him_..." Nick allowed his words, smooth silk and thick as molasses, to permeate the air before grabbing the cue stick and taking his turn as though he had never spoken.

He strolled around the table, approached the pearly cue ball, and locked onto the ruby red three. It took more time for the crimson ball to fly into the corner pocket than it did for a Smoker's tongue to shoot through a tiny gap between a broken window and the pool table blocking it. The mucus-laden appendage wrapped around Coach's neck and dragged him half-way across the room before Nick had time to look up.

The conman heard the thud of Coach's sizable frame as he was pulled against the overturned pool table. Although the Smoker could not pull the man any further, Coach was still in very real danger. The ferocity with which the Smoker was pulling would ensure that his neck would be crushed long before he choked to death.

Nick was on him in seconds, chopping furiously at the tongue with the katana. The blade was formidable, but its edge had been dulled by repeated contact against zombie bone and Francis's sniper rifle. Finally, the python-like appendage was severed and Nick helped Coach pry the wriggling coil from his neck. The conman looked out the window to see the Smoker scurry across a rooftop and out of sight.

"Slimy bastard."

"Looks like play time's over," Coach coughed.

"Yeah, I guess so." Nick was still looking out the window and into a construction site below them. The incessant rain had turned the excavated dirt into a moat of mud, more liquid than solid. The murky substance had ensnared and partially submerged the cranes, bulldozers, and various other heavy machinery. The fluid mud was host to a slew of dismembered body parts that drifted along its surface.

Nick turned his attention to the scaffolding that was level to the window and squinted at the sight of a dead zombie with a health pack strapped to its back and a molotov nestled within a leather waist strap.

"Holy shit. Would you get a load of that? Cover me, Coach, in case that Smoker shows its warty ass again." The conman climbed onto the scaffolding and treaded slowly towards the corpse of the fallen survivor. The wood below his feet was slick and unstable, and the intensifying wind caused the entire structure to shudder and sway beneath him. By the time he reached the corpse, the scaffolding was rocking violently, and Nick slipped as he reached for the health pack.

"Oh shit! Shit! Coach help me up!" Nick screamed as he dangled over the edge of the scaffolding.

Doubting his ability to stay on his own feet, Coach crawled over to Nick with the wood creaking under the heavier weight of his body.

"Damn it Coach! I'm losing my grip!"

"Nick it ain't that far of a drop you know!" Coach yelled as he grabbed one of the conman's arms, and indeed the height of the drop was not very far.

"Yeah, but I really don't want to fall into that disgusting cesspool."

The scaffolding was shaking so intensely that it threatened to collapse, and a reverberating roar heralded the cause of the tremors.

"Fuck!" Nick snarled as he hit the mud. He scrambled on all fours to get away from the splintered wood and metal as the destroyed scaffolding rained down around him. The fallen survivor landed on his legs, pinning him to the soggy grime. He grabbed the health pack and kicked the corpse away from him as he struggled to his feet.

Coach, who had landed a couple of yards away, was sloshing through the muck with a Tank nearly on top of him. He dove into a concrete cylinder pipe and began shooting the tank from within it. The monster reached in to grab him, and Coach had to shimmy all the way to the other end of the pipe to escape the enormous arm. He fired his shotgun at the Tank's hand, sending blood and flakes of concrete flying. The beast bellowed in pain as Coach fired shot after shot into the creature's hand and arm, which continued to trash about as it reached for him.

Nick hurtled through the mud, releasing a trail of bullets from his machine gun as he approached the Tank. They struck the creature's shoulder and back. Once he was close enough, Nick unsheathed his katana. Before he could strike the Tank with the sword, the monster turned its head to face him and surged towards him. With its arm still inside the concrete cylinder, it dragged the structure through the mud. Coach rolled helplessly inside the cylinder until it slammed into a crane. He hissed from the pain as the back of his head hit the concrete.

The Tank pulled its arm out of the cylinder and pursued Nick through the muddy construction site. He ducked behind a bulldozer as the monster hurtled slabs of broken scaffolding at him. He crawled amidst the heavy machinery in an attempt to circle around and make it back to Coach when he stumbled over something partially submerged in the filthy muck.

It shuddered from the conman's impact and lifted its emaciated, heavily damaged body. Its eyes lit up like bonfires upon seeing Nick, who sat frozen as he stared into them. The conman gasped for air as he crawled backwards, desperate to get away from the ghastly thing. So too did the creature begin to breath heavily as it rose up shakily. The singed, tattered remnants of a once white gown were falling off of the skeletal body. The ebony tipped talons spasmed and a nearly bald, horrifically mutilated head twitched from severe cerebral damage.

The Witch bride hadn't been crying as she lay broken in the mud, and she didn't scream as she lunged at Nick. She had screamed with such fervor back at the gazebo that she no longer had a voice left. Nick was up and running for his life in a terror-fueled panic. He didn't aim as he fired at her- didn't even turn his head as he pressed the trigger. To do so meant slowing down, and slowing down meant death. Regardless, the demon was right behind him. The mud did nothing to slow her rabid pursuit.

The rain was striking Nick's eyes, and he was only able to see the metal railing of a staircase that led to another bar ahead of him when it reflected the gleam of a lightning bolt that ripped through the sky. He willed every fiber of his being into reaching it. His legs and lungs were on fire, he had no idea where the Tank was, and he could feel the wicked sting and a rush of air against his back from a swipe of the Witch's claws that tore open his dress shirt and grazed his flesh. The earth shook as a lambasted bulldozer careened through the mud like a Tonka toy. The roar of twisted metal was deafening and drowned out the roar of the enraged behemoth that had sent it flying. The mud churned and rippled from the impact, nearly sending him to the ground. He reached out for the railing of the staircase and as soon as he felt the damp, icy-cold metal in his palm, he lifted his feet off the ground. So great was Nick's momentum as he vaulted over the railing that he slammed his back into the side of the bar. He lost his katana as he tumbled down the stairs. Reaching wildly for the handle of the door, he grabbed it to stop his fall, swung it open, and whipped around to close it.

The Witch annihilated the door as soon as he slammed it shut, sending him hurtling backwards in an explosion of wooden slivers. Nick didn't even have time to think as the she-demon descended upon him.

Coach's head was spinning, and his legs shook as he leaned against his golf club for support. He had watched the Witch chase Nick into the bar when he had crawled out of the concrete cylinder and knew that he had no hope of reaching the conman in time to help. He could see the Tank rampaging ahead of him- a monstrous child tossing its play things about in a tantrum- and Coach felt utterly helpless in the face of it. He could feel the fear rising up within him as the monster surged towards him, but something kept that fear from completely consuming him.

He could see it.

Water may have been streaming in torrents from a tombstone-gray sky, but he was still able to see it.

The Tank was moving with the speed of a freight train, but he was still able to see it.

He only had the use of one God damn eye, but still, he was able to see it.

It was subtle, an almost imperceptible limp in the monster's step, but it was there. That Tank was in pain, and _he_ had caused it.

Coach smiled. Perhaps he could cause a little bit more pain before it took him down.

"You were right, Ro. We should have stuck together. I'm sorry."

The ex-football player was able to fire once before a blood-soaked fist hammered his chest and sent him soaring backwards into a chain-link fence.

The Witch thrashed about as her feet left the ground. The gleaming, soulless eyes whirled about in their sockets, and her tongue lolled out of her mouth as she emitted a death rattle. Her intestines spilled onto the linoleum tiles with a sickening plop as her body was torn in half. Her legs and pelvis were flung against the wall, leaving an enormous smear of black blood that dribbled like sludge onto tables and chairs. Her head and torso was heaved into the bar, causing a fulmination of green and amber shards to ricochet across the room.

Nick's heart nearly stopped as he witnessed the nightmarish scene, wishing- praying- that he would wake up as he dragged himself away from the door. His mind was screaming because his throat could not.

The teeth. There were so many of them aligned in double rows in the upper and lower jaw. Shark teeth. Perfectly, hideously symmetrical within the pointed jaws. As terrible as they were, Nick kept his wide-eyed stare on them. So indescribably horrible was the rest of the face that to focus on anything else meant losing his mind.

Zombie. Monster. Demon. It didn't matter what it was.

It had followed him from Savannah. Stalked him.

_His _monster. _His _demon.

It was on him before he could fully lift his gun. It plucked him off the floor as though he were weightless, surged across the bar, and into a tiny alcove with a single pool table. It slammed him against the wall. For a few brief moments, Nick struggled. He moved his arm to aim his gun, but it pinned both his arms against the wall. He kicked with his feet, striking it in several places, but it didn't flinch. Its face was pressed against his cheek. He closed his eyes. His brain would not allow him to see the abomination. He could feel the breath. It was as cold as a cloudless, winter midnight and reeked with the stench of a desecrated cemetery. His body swiveled, and his eyes snapped open as his face and chest scraped against the surface of the pool table. Suddenly his back was on fire. He screamed in agony as a single nail pierced his right shoulder blade and traveled downward in a diagonal path, crossing over his spine in the center of his back. The feeling of absolute terror was worse than the pain. It had to stop. He was being pressed against the table- pressed _into_ the table. The air was wrenched from his lungs. He couldn't see. Couldn't smell. Couldn't taste. Couldn't touch. Couldn't...

"OH, GOD! NICK!"

"Ellis...stay away...Don't...Don't come...in here..."

* * *

Sights, sounds, smells- they all blurred together as Coach lay on the ground. So too did his thoughts and memories flicker, blend, and bleed.

A murderous roar and a child's sweet laughter.

The stench of burning rubber and the aroma of blessed peach cobbler.

A Tank's wretched face and the familiar visage of his noble brother.

At the corner of his vision, a light became visible- white and ever increasing in its brightness.

Then there were shapes, figures, drifting about and encircling him- reaching out to grab him.

Angels. Demons. Something in between.

Something clicked in his confused mind. The dark figures.

"Rochelle...I see 'em, Ro. Those things you were ta-"

Coach closed his unbandaged eye.


End file.
